


The Seastorm

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:44:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan left the Vagabond behind. He abandoned the mask, the identity, his old employers. But it’s only a matter of time before all the lies unravel, and here he is now; a dead body in the trunk and his past catching up to him hard and, worst of all, Gavin’s trust in him broken. The only way to get out of this is to work together, but that’s going to be damn near impossible when Ryan’s revealed himself to be the one thing Gavin fears most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelology/gifts).



> **a/n:** A very happy birthday to my dear friend Kayla (Angelology)~  <3
> 
>  **t/w:** violence, non-detailed descriptions of panic attacks

Here they are now. Ryan is shaking, shaking, can’t stop. He’s cold, he tells himself, that is why. With every sharp turn he takes around the winding cliffside road, the body in the boot of the car gives a sickening thump as it slides and hits the sides of the trunk. Each time Gavin’s breath hitches as he jumps and Ryan has to fight the urge to look over at him, in the passenger seat, with concern. Part of him wants to make sure he’s okay. The rest afraid of what the look on his face might be.

In the end, though, it’s Gavin who breaks the silence.

“Is Ryan even your real name?”

His voice is tight and Ryan can tell he’s trying to be cold, controlled, but there’s still a slight tremor in it. _Now_ he glances over at him; Gavin’s not looking at him, staring straight out the windscreen at the dark road ahead, the raindrops rolling down the glass like tears. Face carefully blank.

He feels sick.

“I mean, it’s my second name, so technically…” He tries to keep his tone light but fails; he knows Gavin can hear the upset in it, and after a moment the other man lets out a hysterical little huff of breath.

“Oh my God,” he croaks, and then laughs, harshly, “Oh my fucking God. I can’t believe this. I have no idea who you fucking are. I don’t even know your God damn name any more.”

“Gavin-”

“Don’t even start, Ryan.” He lifts up a hand and scrubs it over his face; it’s shaking terribly, and Ryan looks over at him and swallows hard. Gavin’s other hand is in his lap still clutching the gun, making no move to put it away, and Ryan’s mouth feels dry as sand suddenly, something choking up in his throat. Gavin’s fingers are stained with blood and when he brings his hand down from his face it’s smeared across his cheek. Some of it’s his; his hands are cut up where he fell on the glass, more running down his chin from his split lip.

Some of it isn’t.

“This isn’t happening,” Gavin says, and shifts in his seat, adjusting his grip on the gun - Ryan flinches a little, but Gavin doesn’t notice - he’s still staring straight ahead, lips working silently between words like he’s trying to find the right ones. His ragged breathing so loud that Ryan can hear it over the crunch of the gravel under their wheels, the roaring crash of the sea against the rocks down below. “This can’t be happening.”

“Gav…” 

Ryan slows the car a little; it’s too dangerous to drive quickly when he’s distracted, not on this road, not in the dark and the buffeting winds and with the edge of the cliff a scant metre away. Gavin’s breathing too fast now, so fast that Ryan can see his chest and shoulders heaving. His hand is still shaking on the gun in his lap.

“You need to calm down,” he says quietly, but Gavin’s laugh this time is loud and mocking and so unlike his usual self that it makes something wrench deep in Ryan’s gut.

“Don’t you dare,” Gavin says, “Bloody tell _me_ to calm down when I just - when I just _killed_ a man for you.” He laughs again, shaky, sucking in gasping breaths in-between. And then waves his hand; vague, wild gesticulations - the hand that’s still holding the gun; Ryan’s eyes track it carefully, something cold and heavy and too like fear settling in his stomach-

“I just killed a man for you,” Gavin repeats, and his laugh this time sounds too much like a sob. “For _you_ Ryan… Oh God, that’s not even your _name_ -”

“Gavin,” Ryan says carefully, and stiffens when the gun in its movements points at him for the briefest of moments before moving on.

“Just drive,” Gavin snaps, and finally lowers his hand to his lap again. The other coming up to run through his hair agitatedly. “Just - just fucking _drive_. We need to finish this.”

Ryan bites his lip, but nods, silently, and turns back to the road, speeding up again. He hears Gavin let out a rush of breath next to him that fades into the roaring wind outside. There are no streetlights up here and with the sky clouded over it’s so dark that all he can see is the road being eaten away under their wheels in the headlights, the occasional snatch of fence and the ocean, beyond, black and tumbling in the rainstorm. They are near the top by now. He takes another sharp turn and his shoulder throbs where he injured it earlier. Another horrid thump as the body in the trunk slides limply about. 

He catches Gavin’s flinch in his peripheral and wants to touch him, suddenly, to reach out and grab his hand and hold it still until he stops trembling.

But he can’t.

He can’t touch Gavin, he can barely even look at him, and God, he’s fucked up this time, he’s fucked up, he has fucked up _so fucking badly_ -

—

—

Earlier.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gavin stutters out. His voice is shaking and his hands are shaking too where they clutch at Ryan’s shoulders.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” Ryan admits, and Gavin gives a nervous sort of laugh.

Ryan reaches up and folds one of his hands over Gavin’s, thumb stroking gently over his knuckles. For a moment they just sit, quietly. The room is very warm and outside Ryan can hear the bonfire crackling and the others cheering and laughing, dim through the cabin walls. He can smell woodsmoke and the salty sea air and the liquor on Gavin’s breath, not so strong that he’s drunk.

It’s an odd moment of calm amidst how distracted Ryan was earlier, after seeing the men beyond the fire and knowing he has to leave-

Coming back here to pack-

Only to be interrupted by Gavin, who was taking a different sort of action for different sorts of reasons, reasons that have built up between them over the last few months. Even then Ryan was frantic, steering him away from the bed so he would not see what Ryan had been doing, sitting him down on the couch instead. But all that fades from his mind because this is where they are now, Gavin staring into his eyes with something oddly, delicately shy about his gaze, and Ryan himself unable to look away.

“You trust me, right?” he asks, and Gavin nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously-

“I trust you,” he replies, and then catches his breath as Ryan leans in close and kisses him, gently at first, but quickly building up into a desperate sort of passion-

—

—

—

This is the beginning. The woman’s name is Jessica Parker and for all that on the surface she looks professional enough - the powerful CEO of a major multinational accounting firm - she has her fingers in a number of pies, it seems, because her people manage to track down Ryan the second he returns to America.

“I want you to kill Gavin Free,” she says, staring at him from beneath some very severe eyebrows.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Ryan replies drily.

It is not anyone who can hire him. He has reputation enough that he can pick and choose the jobs he wants to take. James Haywood, the notorious Vagabond - the best assassin in the country - is in high demand and he usually turns down anything he doesn’t like.

But this woman is powerful, he can read it in her demeanour as much as the Armani pantsuit and lavish study in the country manor he’s been taken out to. 

“He works for Geoff Ramsey. Surely you’ve heard of the Fake AH Crew.”

“They’re not big,” he begins, but frowns when she laughs at him, suddenly and harshly.

“You’ve been out of the country too long,” she says, something meanly amused tugging at one side of her lips. “They’ve blown up the last six months. He owns half the coastline. I want him dead.”

“Ramsey or Free?”

“Ramsey’s my kill,” she says, with such vehemence that Ryan can’t help but smile a little under the mask - revenge always makes for interesting jobs - “You don’t need to know why.”

“Alright. Tell me more. What’s special about Free?”

“He works Ramsey’s security. Screens everyone, makes sure the people they’re working with - client or crew - can be trusted. Take him out and we can get in to kill the rest of them. It’s a means to an end,” she explains, and then smiles again, wickedly, “But he’s also… _precious_ to Geoff. It will hurt him to lose him.”

“Okay,” Ryan says. She’s already told him how much she’s willing to pay; it’s a hell of a lot and even if he’s not in this for the money, not really, the Fake AH Crew have him intrigued. When he left they were small but steadily rising; he hadn’t paid them much attention - people come and go all the time - but from the sounds of it Ramsey has established quite an empire, and people like that are dangerous. “Send me the details and I’ll-”

“You don’t need to come up with your own plan,” Parker cuts in. “I have everything worked out for you.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows. “I’ve been doing this a long time, Ms. Parker. I don’t need you to-”

“I don’t think you quite realise how dangerous these people are,” she snaps. “You’re not the first person I’ve hired to try and do this job, and you may well not be the last. They’re careful. They don’t trust easily. There’s no way you can just assassinate Free like you usually would. You need to get in there and take him out from the inside.”

“Infiltrating a crew as tight as you say they are will take-”

“Months, I know,” she says, “Which is why I’ve done all the groundwork for you. My people have been working for a long time to set it up so that there’s an opening in the crew, an opening for what they believe is a lone wolf assassin who shares many common enemies with them. We’ve been taking out enemies of Ramsey for a while, protecting his territories for him, under the guise of an anonymous vigilante who you can now take on the role of.”

Ryan frowns a little. Part of him is a bit miffed that she has taken on so much control; normally he likes to do things his way, follow his own plans, and then get paid at the end with the client staying otherwise firmly out of his business.

But from the sounds of things this is not going to be an easy job. He only gives it a moment’s thought before nodding; she’s right, he _has_ been out of the country too long, and a big hit like this is a good way to make a comeback.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” She gives a tight smile. “And Haywood?”

“What?”

She puts her glass of wine down on the desk and leans towards him, face suddenly set and cold.

“I cannot stress,” she says, “The amount of time and money that has gone into getting you a place in this crew so that you can pull this off. If this doesn’t work - if you’re discovered - we’ll have to start over from scratch, and they’ll be on their guard. I’ve been waiting long enough to kill Ramsey. This is the best shot I’ve had yet. Do _not_ fail me.”

Ryan straightens up a bit, irritated by her lack of faith.

“You know my reputation,” he replies, and she gives another small, tight smile.

“I do. It’s why I chose you. Go then,” she says, “I’ll have one of my people go through the details with you. The next time we talk I want Gavin Free dead.”

Ryan nods, getting to his feet. He’s tired from his long flight, but determined, glad to have a new mark, a new job to pursue. He holds out his hand and Parker takes it, her own small fingers nearly engulfed by his. But her grip is firm, her long nails digging into him even through his leather glove as they shake hands.

“I won’t fail,” he says.

—

Parker’s people have laid the groundwork well. Ryan’s briefed on everything they’ve set up and it isn’t long before Ramsey gets in contact with him, wanting to set up a meeting with the man who has been helping his crew both directly and indirectly for so long without ever making contact.

He has his cover story. He’ll go by Ryan, his middle name. A freelance assassin who’s been out of the country a while but has bad blood with some of the gangs who the Fake AH Crew are enemies with. It’s not actually that far a stretch from the truth - the main draw is that if he’s new in the area Ramsey won’t suspect him to be working for anyone. As long as they don’t know he’s the Vagabond, his cover should hold up.

It’s a mere two weeks later before he finds himself with an invite to one of the crew’s safe houses. Despite the large reach of Geoff’s empire, most of his operations stem from Achievement City, particularly around the coastal area given that most of his work is in smuggling. This particular one is in a secluded cove down near the beach, around a number of other holiday houses. It’s a cloudy grey day and the beach is remote - this stretch is more rock than sand, and not a particularly popular area - and as Ryan drives there he feels oddly nervous.

He’s got the window down and the crisp cold wind runs through his hair and makes his nose and cheeks burn numb. He feels oddly exposed, vulnerable without his mask - it’s been a long, long time since he took a job without it - but he takes deep breaths, the salty brine smell of the sea filling his nostrils, and gets his game face on. 

—

Ryan did theatre at school. It feels so long ago now. Another time, another world. Another him. But something of it has always stuck, and it has never been difficult for him to pretend to be someone that he is not.

And on this job, he has to do a hell of a lot of pretending.

The Fake AH Crew are tight. He realises this immediately. The main five of them are close as family with each other - but wary of outsiders. Whether they’re all in the one spot or spread out amongst the different parts of Ramsey’s empire, they’re in constant communication with each other and getting any one of them alone or off guard is nearly impossible. Ramsey himself is the king of the castle and slippery - after their first few meetings Ryan barely catches a glimpse of him, and when he does it’s always with several of the others at his back - he can see why Parker’s failed to kill him for so long.

But for all their wariness they’re also perhaps the funniest people he’s ever seen in this line of work, and he quickly realises that to break into this circle he’s going to need to be friendly and approachable-

And for some reason, he quickly finds that that’s not that hard either.

‘Ryan’ is a Nice Guy, for all that his job is to kill people. Ryan, unlike James, is open with others. Ryan is not silent, Ryan talks a lot - flubs half his words - smiles at people when he passes them and engages in joking banter while on the job and tells amusing anecdotes. Ryan opens up about his interests; the books he likes to read, the games, the anime-

That’s what engages them, he realises - he’s put on small jobs at first, with lower ranking members of the crew. Mostly if he’s with one of the main five it’s Ray, the other assassin in the mix, and they click immediately. Even beyond the act Ryan is putting on, if he was working with Narvaez for any other job he’d’ve liked him. Quietly sarcastic, good at what he does and no bullshit - their getting along isn’t just a pretence on Ryan’s part.

Ray must speak well of him because soon he’s being promoted to bigger jobs, working with more of the group - Michael _and_ Ray this time, and some of Ramsey’s B-Team. And then - as the weeks wear on and he proves his worth - with Jack, on some of the even bigger jobs. They’re falling for it, he realises, they _like_ him - they’ve certainly had no lack of laughs together-

(And maybe he likes it too; maybe, for once, he’s letting himself loose a little after working so long alone - maybe it’s _nice_ to be able to spend a job laughing with someone else for once-

Maybe he’s putting a bit too much of himself into this because he’s talking about things that he genuinely does like and starting to tell stories that aren’t entirely lies and are actual tales from his past - edited to avoid recognition of course-

Maybe the lonesome Vagabond, that dark silent assassin, is starting to feel like more of an act than this-) 

—

It’s a good two months before he actually meets Gavin Free.

By now he’d say the crew trusts him, or are at least well on the way there. He’s endeared himself to Michael, Ray and Jack, he thinks - they’re on very friendly terms and have hung out a number of times outside of work, and he knows he’s much closer to them than a lot of their other hired guns. He’s even worked with Geoff one or two times.

Gavin he’s heard over the comms now and then, occasionally directing an operation or passing information on about clients or meets. But it’s on the first occasion that he’s invited into the crew’s main base - an important moment, he knows - that he actually meets him.

The base operates from an abandoned lighthouse in a remote part of the coastline, part of a stretch of beach and scrub that’s long overgrown and frequented only by the occasional hiker or tourist. It looks rundown from the outside but Ramsey’s repurposed the interior, and from the vantage point they have a solid view of anything approaching them from miles around.

He’s surprised to find that most of their plans and ordnance aren’t stored here; it seems more of a meeting point and living area for the crew when they’re around - where the main five of them can talk unseen - and he feels a bit like he’s intruding into someone’s home when he walks in and finds Ray lounging on the couch in one area, playing on his phone with his shoes off and feet up over the arm of the sofa.

“Sup Ryan,” he says, giving him a bit of a wave. “Geoff finally let you into the secret base, did he?”

“Apparently,” Ryan replies, looking around in bemusement.

“You have to say the secret password at the door?”

“Haha, I was half expecting to.”

“Well, make yourself at home. Geoff’s office is upstairs if you want him.”

“Thanks.” He is here to meet with Geoff, but he’s a little early, and goes for a bit of a wander first. There are rooms on every landing up the stairs, most of them empty, but he pauses when he gets to one floor that opens out into a small office and finds a young man sitting at the table, working at a laptop. The guy looks up when he enters, seeming a bit startled to be interrupted, and actually half-reaches for a gun on the desk next to him before Ryan raises his hands.

“Whoa, whoa! I’m friendly!”

“Oh. Ryan,” the guy says, and lowers the gun with a sheepish sort of grin. “Didn’t recognise you for a second.”

He’s English and Ryan knows immediately it’s Gavin. Something lights up in him, that thrill of sharp focus he always gets when his targets enter his sight. He’s careful not to show it, pasting on a friendly smile and stepping further into the room.

“Gavin, right? It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He holds out a hand but Gavin ignores it, tilting his head and scanning him up and down with scrutinising eyes.

It takes all Ryan’s self control not to twitch under his gaze. Parker had warned him how careful Gavin was, how thorough in his screening of new arrivals to the crew, and he has to keep a careful poker face on, suddenly wondering how much the other man is seeing. He takes the opportunity to have his own good stare.

Gavin’s young, younger than he expected. Shorter than Ryan, and slight. His hands aren’t as calloused and scarred as Geoff or Michael’s, so he obviously doesn’t do as much heavy lifting in the field. Probably easy to overpower. But he’s got quick reflexes - his hand was on that gun the second Ryan stepped up the stairs - and Ryan can see that he’s armed; there’s another gun at his belt and a knife, too.

“Ryan King,” Gavin repeats then - the last name is the alias Ryan came up with - “Sit down, why don’t you?”

Ryan raises his eyebrows but pulls up a chair opposite Gavin’s desk.

“Here to see Geoff?” Gavin asks then, and Ryan nods.

“Yeah."

“He’s busy right now. You can wait here with me.”

“Okay.” There’s an awkward pause before Ryan asks, “You spend most of your time here? I haven’t seen you in the field yet.”

Gavin laughs. “Right now I do. When heist time comes I do more outside. And yourself? Geoff seems to be giving you more and more jobs lately.”

“Yeah, well. What can I say. I’m useful to him.”

“Very useful,” Gavin muses. “He tells me you’re the best assassin we’ve ever seen.”

“Oh.” Ryan blinks a few times, a little startled; he’d been playing down his skills a little so as not to arouse suspicions, but Ramsey’s a sharp one. 

“Ray wasn’t even mad about it. He seems to like you too,” Gavin says. His tone is casual enough but there’s something careful in the questions he’s asking and Ryan can tell he’s being tested somehow. “And Michael as well. They all say you’re well good with a gun and a knife.”

“Thanks… I guess.”

“So tell me, King.” Gavin leans forward now, intense green eyes locking on his. “How come I’ve not heard a damn thing about you before you suddenly appeared here?”

Ryan forces himself to remain calm, face carefully blank as Gavin’s eyes scan over his face.

“Can’t pull up shit on you,” Gavin continues. “No childhood. No past. Nothing in this country or anywhere else.”

“I’ve been overseas recently,” Ryan adds automatically - part of the lie he’s concocted - “King isn’t my real name. You know how it is in this business.”

“Mmm. Ryan your real name though?”

“Yes,” Ryan replies, and that’s _technically_ not a lie, not really, and it seems Gavin can tell. He sits back a bit.

“You’re a bit of a mystery,” he says, and Ryan frowns. He’s the one leaning forward now.

“Is there a problem here, Free?”

Gavin gives a tight smile.

“It’s my job to be careful, King. We don’t let people in here easily.”

“That’s fair enough. I’ve proved myself and I’ll continue to,” Ryan says. “I guess for now I’ll appreciate that you take your job seriously.”

Gavin stares at him a moment longer, but at that moment a door upstairs opens and moments later Geoff is descending into the room. His eyes light up when he sees them.

“Ryan! I see you met Gav.” He walks over to Gavin and then, before Ryan’s stunned eyes, proceeds to release the most horrifyingly loud and intense fart, aimed directly at him. Gavin screeches and splutters - tries to get away but is quickly grabbed and shoved back into his seat before Geoff doubles over with laughter, leaning down to brace himself against the desk and effectively trapping Gavin as he does so. Gavin is gagging but laughing as well, and Ryan is left to watch in a bemused silence, eyes wide. Geoff’s casual around them, has been since the start, but this is on a bit of another level.

“Geoff - get the hell off me - oh my God. You’re gross. I’m gonna throw up.” Gavin shoves ineffectively at Geoff’s shoulder until he finally lets up and he’s able to scramble free, gasping in fresh air.

“You’re horrible,” he croaks, turning to him, “What sort of impression are you making in front of Ryan?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Geoff informs Ryan cheerily. “He grill you yet?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, and then shoots Gavin a smile. “He does his job well, I’ll tell you that. I’ve worked for a number of other gangs before and we’ve always had problems with clients and hires. But since I’ve arrived here everyone’s been fine.”

“Gotta be careful,” Geoff agrees, but gives Gavin a look that’s a mixture of fondness and pride. Ryan remembers abruptly what Parker told him - _he’s precious to Ramsey, it will hurt him to lose him -_ and takes note of the way Geoff reaches out to ruffle Gavin’s hair as he ushers Ryan upstairs. Gavin swats at him irritably but is laughing when he sits back down at his desk.

 _Interesting_ , is all Ryan can think. 

Free’s a careful one for sure. Which will make it harder to get to him.

—

After that first time in the main base he works with the five of them more and more, until he’d go so far as to say that the Fake AH Crew now has _six_ main members.

He gets to know them, carefully. And while he watches Gavin in particular, working out his relationships with the others, the way he fits in with the rest of them - any weak spots he can exploit - he can’t help but notice the different dynamics between all of them.

Jack and Geoff are old friends; Jack is his most trusted companion, his right-hand man, and fiercely loyal to everyone in the crew.

Michael and Ray have known each other a long time too; they’re the first to turn to each other to make a joke. Ray is reserved, almost awkward, around most of the other people they work with - seems to prefer solo jobs, which Ryan can respect; hell, he’s like that too most of the time - but around Michael he opens up more than with anyone else, and the only time he revels in teamwork is when the main group go on a heist.

Michael and Gavin are obviously very close; they tease and heckle each other constantly but Ryan can see a deep, genuine affection there between them. The same goes for Geoff and Gavin; Ramsey seems to treat the other man as almost a son or younger brother. He obviously cares for him a great deal - for _all_ his crew, some abiding protectiveness in place over the youngest three.

It’s almost startling how much they care about each other. Ryan’s never seen anything like it in any of the gangs he’s worked with or against before. It’s implied in this business that relationships like that are a weakness - people tend to get to the top by looking out for themselves and themselves only - but he can see now how their closeness is a strength. They don’t need to worry about one member of their crew turning on the others, there are few internal conflicts and they trust each other so much that when they work together they do so seamlessly.

Part of him can’t quite wrap his head around it. The other part… 

The other part is oddly endeared by the way they’ve accepted him into their little fold too. He’s played his role to perfection and he’s pretty sure they trust him completely. He’s developed his own little in-jokes with them, his own place to fit into the rest of the crew. And he can tell, he can _tell_ that Ramsey’s starting to care about him as well - that the protection he offers the rest of his crew extends to Ryan as well.

But it’s an act, it’s an _act_ , even if perhaps there’s too much of his real self going into the persona he’s putting on-

Even if he’s enjoying himself a little too much on the days they pull jobs together, or go into fits of laughter at the conversations they have while driving, or hang out for beers on the beach after work-

Even if there are moments, sometimes, where he almost forgets that he’s working for Parker, not Ramsey.

Those thoughts make him kick himself. _Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. Geoff is not your friend here. Gavin is your_ target _. Do what you’re fucking being paid to do._

Ryan King does not exist. James Haywood is going to do his job, to kill Gavin Free no matter what.

—

He starts to make plans after that.

Gavin himself is not difficult to kill. Ryan has seen him in action enough to know that. He’s good with a gun, but if Ryan takes him by surprise he will not have the chance to shoot. Compared to Ryan he is small and thin and if Ryan gets a hand around his throat he could snap his neck with ease. Or cover his mouth and nose, squeeze his windpipe tight and choke him silently to death. But he does not like to kill people with his bare hands. There is something about having to feel the life leave their body that makes his skin crawl. It shouldn’t, he knows. He can’t even remember the number of people that he has killed in his line of work.

Perhaps a knife. Get it up between his ribs and into his heart. Quick and quiet. Or cut his throat, let him bleed out. Even if he struggled Ryan could easily hold him still-

The problem, he thinks, is not _how_ to kill him. It is where and when.

He still rarely sees Gavin away from the others. It will be hard to get him alone. And even when he does, he needs to make it look like an accident - if they realise _he_ did it, or even that someone related to the crew did, then it will make it ten times harder for Parker to kill Geoff. They will be on their guard.

No suspicion can fall on him. Either an accident or make it look like one of their enemies.

But to do that - to get Gavin alone -

He needs to get close.

He needs Gavin to let his guard down, because they may have worked together since their first encounter, but Ryan has gotten the impression that the other man still does not trust him, even if Geoff does. He avoids Ryan and rarely talks to him, and Ryan half thinks the other man dislikes him.

That needs to change.

—

“Does Gavin not like me?” he asks Michael.

They’re sitting in his car on a stakeout, waiting to watch a deal between two other gangs go down. Eating McDonalds and talking shit about other people in the city, and the moment a lull falls Ryan brings it up. Casually, of course.

Michael’s gaze flicks over to him, lazily curious.

“Why would you think that?” he asks.

Ryan shrugs, methodically picking the skin off a chicken nugget.

“I’ve gotten to know all of you guys. But not him. He doesn’t seem to like being around me. I dunno.”

“Nah, you’re right,” Michael says, and then laughs. “Gav’s an idiot. He’s scared of new people.”

“You’re saying he’s just shy of me?”

“Pretty much,” Michael says, and snorts. “Typical Gavin.” He sobered up after a second, though, suddenly looking oddly serious. “In all honesty, though, he doesn’t trust easily. Part of his job. There have been… incidents, before. If he lets someone in and they turn out to be unreliable, or worse still, working against us - he takes it hard. It puts all of us in danger. Lot of responsibility on his shoulders.”

There’s a moment of silence, then Michael reaches out and claps Ryan on the shoulder.

“But I’ll tell him you’re cool,” he says, with a grin. “He’s just paranoid. But you’ve proven yourself more than enough.”

Ryan swallows, and nods, silently, suddenly feeling almost uncomfortable. Ramsey is Parker’s target and Gavin is his but after seeing how close the entire crew is he suddenly feels almost bad about playing Michael, Ray, and Jack like this. They have had good times, working together on a lot of things now.

But it always seems like this. Ramsey’s a kingpin and they can’t be trusted, and no matter how _nice_ the Fake AH Crew seem they’re criminals just like everyone else - it’s only a matter of time, Ryan knows, before they’ll show their true colours, that they’re in it for themselves the same way everyone else in this fucking world is.

—

With the knowledge that Gavin does not, in fact, hate him in mind, Ryan begins his operation in earnest.

Gavin works late at the safehouse most nights, he’s realised, often after everyone else goes home. It’s a big job managing all of the crew’s security. Whenever he’s out and about on crew work he wears sunglasses and it’s only the rest of them, inside the safety and homeliness of the main base, who see him take them off and reveal how God damn tired he always looks underneath. 

 _Get close_ , Ryan thinks.

He stays behind one night, remaining sitting on the couch in the lounge area on his laptop even as all the others bid him goodnight and head out until the light house has fallen into silence. If he closes his eyes and listens hard he can just hear the click of keys as Gavin types vigorously away upstairs.

Ryan bides his time; waits a while before going to make a coffee for himself and a tea for Gavin. He heads upstairs quietly and when he knocks at the door of Gavin’s office the other man jumps a little. He relaxes visibly when he sees it’s Ryan.

“You’re still around?” he asks. He sounds half dead and Ryan raises his eyebrows as he sets the tea on the table and sits down uninvited.

“Was working late. Looks like you have been too.” He takes in the bags under Gavin’s eyes, the tired slump of his shoulders.

 _I could throw him down the stairs_ , he thinks. A fall from this level of the lighthouse would kill him instantly. In his tired state and in the dark it is not implausible that Gavin might have fallen. But Ryan would have to tamper with the security cameras to avoid detection, and he doesn’t know if someone outside the base monitors them.

“Lots to do,” Gavin says, with a half-smile. He glances at the tea hesitantly. “Is that for me?”

“No, Gavin, I’ve made myself both tea and coffee to drink in front of you.” Ryan rolls his eyes, but Gavin still doesn’t move - something painfully awkward on his face - and after a moment he laughs. “Yes, it’s for you.”

“Thanks,” Gavin says, sounding a bit surprised as he takes a sip. God, Ryan thinks, he really is shy.

“You normally work these weird hours?” he asks, leaning back in his seat.

“Depends what I’m doing. Why are you here?” Gavin’s looking at him a bit suspiciously now, and for all that he’s right not to trust him, Ryan suddenly can’t help feeling almost put out, because all things considered he _has_ proven himself to the crew by now. To Geoff.

“Seemed…. weird, leaving you just sitting on your own here,” he replies. “Do you want me to go?”

“No, it’s fine.” Gavin stares down into his tea and gives a small smile. “Thank you.”

There’s a moment of silence as they both sip their drinks. After a while Gavin’s shoulders start to relax.

“Why does Ray call you Vav?” Ryan asks after a while, trying to spark conversation.

Gavin glances up and laughs. “You flub your words _one time_ and those assholes make an inside joke of it. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” he adds, with a sly sort of grin, and Ryan groans.

“It’s not my fault I have a more sophisticated vocabul- vocabulary,” he attempts, somehow managing to stumble on the last word. It’s not even an act this time - hasn’t really ever been - it’s much easier to act intimidating when you have the mask on and don’t talk much. These last few months with the Fake AH Crew have been the first time in a long time that he’s had extended, prolonged interactions with people.

Gavin laughs, seeming genuinely amused, and Ryan huffs and rolls his eyes.

“How late do you think you’ll be here?” he asks.

Gavin shrugs again.

“Not sure. Depends how this goes. I need to get this done and I’d rather stay late and do it thoroughly than rush it and get out. I can’t half-ass this stuff, Ryan, not when it’s my job to protect all the rest of you.”

“Better to get some rest and not do it when you’re tired, though,” Ryan points out, but something about what Gavin said has stuck. _Protect all the rest of you_. This is the first crew he’s seen where their security was focused on keeping the crew _safe_ rather than stopping them getting screwed over and losing money.

He’s never really had someone watching his back before.

 _You’re the threat here,_ he reminds himself - _you’re the one he should be watching out for_. But there have been other instances, since he joined, when Gavin warned them off a client, or a deal that would have gone wrong. Bad situations that they could have dealt with, if it came to it - but didn’t have to, because Gavin was there looking over their shoulder making sure they can trust the people they’re working with.

It’s only because Ryan’s been doing this for so long and has gotten so good at it that Gavin hasn’t caught _him_ out already. Maybe once he would have felt smug about it. But he doesn’t, and isn’t quite sure why.

“I’m not too tired,” Gavin says, and smiles again. “But you must be. Thanks for the tea. I’ll lock up.”

“Nah, I’ll stick around,” Ryan says, and leans back in his chair. “Keep you company. If you want.”

Gavin looks briefly surprised - then suspicious - then after a moment, gives a tentative nod. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I... That’d be good.”

Ryan’s almost surprised he accepted. But in the quiet that settles over them next he looks around and realises just how dark and lonely the lighthouse is without the others here. It’s almost eerie; the black sky out the windows and the faint roar of the ocean outside. It can get to your head, being alone here at night.

So he stays, and after a while they start up talking again, and his job here is just to make Gavin _trust_ him, really, so he lets go of the thoughts about killing him and focuses on the conversation. It’s almost fun; when Gavin gets out of his shell a bit he starts acting more like how Ryan’s seen him with the others. Stupid stories and hypothetical questions and the sort of comments that make Ryan want to simultaneously facepalm and bust a gut laughing.

That night is the turning point.

They both go home at about five a.m. and are dead on their feet the next day, but Gavin glances over at Ryan when they get in and gives him a small, almost shy smile that Ryan returns.

After that Gavin’s as open with him as the rest of the crew.

Ryan keeps it up. The little kindnesses. Bringing Gavin tea or coffee when he’s had a long day. Giving his stupid questions over the comms genuine thought. Offering to drive him home when he stays back late. Giving him food.

They talk more - he talks more with _all_ of them. They share a lot of stories, the others delighting in telling him about the exploits of the crew before he joined. And Ryan finds himself wanting to share things as well - not made up things, either, but bits and pieces of the wealth of tales he’s collected in his time as an assassin. He has to be careful, editing names and details so they don’t get suspicious, but there’s something almost warming about watching them laugh when he tells them about having to go undercover as a model, or killing someone with a flare gun.

“Did you work with many crews before this?” Gavin asks one day in the car.

Ryan shakes his head. “Not really. Mostly on my own.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t want to, quite frankly. Most of them were… not like you guys,” he says.

Gavin’s quiet for a moment. Then he lets out a little sigh.

“Fair enough,” he replies, and reaches up, rubbing at his chin tiredly. “Geoff’s different. He cares about us. But everyone else out here is only in it for themselves. I’ve met more than enough of those sort of people and I have the scars to prove it. Part of why I have to be careful about who I let in, y’know? If someone gets into our crew and fucks up everything Geoff’s built, that’s on me. But at least with… with the six of us it’s different. We don’t have to worry about all that. I don’t think I could ever work with anyone else.”

 _The six of us_ , Ryan thinks, surprised by how easily it came out of Gavin’s mouth. He’s known for a while now that he’s earned himself a place as trusted among Ramsey’s own as any of the others.

Part of why he can kill and not care about it is because the people he takes out are gang members or crime lords - bad people who do bad things - people who are in it for themselves and just don’t care.

But the Fake AH Crew...

Gavin is looking at him and this time it’s harder to force a smile.

—

Ryan falls sick, a flu and fever that leave him bedridden. He calls Geoff to tell him that he can’t come in and intends to spend the whole day in bed, but is surprised when only twenty minutes later Geoff himself drops by with soup and medicine and stays for half an hour cracking terrible jokes before telling Ryan to text him if he needs anything else.

Jack drops by later that day and takes his temperature, then Michael and Ray with food. Gavin is the last to come, later in the night - texting first to make sure Ryan’s still awake. He brings sweet tea and makes Ryan toast when he gets there and stays for an hour doing Ryan’s laundry for him so he doesn’t have to worry about it when he gets better.

Ryan’s feverish and too out of it to really appreciate it at the time. When he wakes up the next morning and thinks back on it he can’t help but bite his lip and try to swallow down the sudden pressure that seems to be rising up in his chest. 

No one else really cared before.

—

They take on two jobs for no money at all, dealing with gangs who had been causing trouble for some of Geoff’s people. Not contacts, not people who directly worked for him, but a doctor and a number of shopkeepers who lived under his rule and had allied themselves with him for protection. Geoff seems genuinely concerned about them and it gives Ryan pause.

There are rules, he’s learned in the course of running with the Fake AH Crew. Keep kids out of it. Don’t go after civilians for no reason. Keep the assassinations to people who are killers themselves. There are other ways to ruin people who aren’t.

It’s organised, and Ryan can see exactly how Geoff rose to the top so quickly. He’s tough, with a reliable team behind him, but he’s also a hell of a lot more fair than other crime lords Ryan’s met, and that means people ally with him easily, and when they do they stay loyal.

And he can’t help _liking_ it. They’re not good people, and neither is Ryan, but he’s never taken pleasure in hurting people the way he knows other bounty hunters can and do.

This crew - this _family_ \- is starting to feel like what he’s maybe been looking for all along, and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth to know that this entire thing is a lie on his part.

—

Gavin tackles him out of the way of a bullet on a heist. They fall to the floor with a crash, Gavin on top of him with their faces pressed close together. The wind’s knocked out of Ryan and for a moment he struggles to realise what just happened; on top of him Gavin sits up with a groan and their eyes meet. Gavin’s are wide and wild and frantic.

“Are you okay?” he asks Ryan, voice slightly muffled behind his balaclava.

Ryan can only nod, numbly, head still spinning a little. The gunshot went right past his ear and it’s ringing; everything sounding a little distorted.

“Thanks,” is all he can gasp out, and Gavin just nods, even as Michael comes up and hauls him to his feet before holding a hand out to Ryan-

—

The night of that mishap he lies awake, staring up at the ceiling above him, and tries to think of how the fuck he is going to do this.

It’s been too easy to forget lately, days and even weeks going by where his mission doesn’t even cross his mind. Sometimes he’ll kick himself and remember, but other times - other times he tells himself that this is all part of it, that it’s more important to gain their trust than to worry about how he’s going to kill Gavin right now.

But tonight - after the other man fucking _saved his life_ …

 _Poison_ , he thinks, _that might be the easiest way_. He’s not an expert - doesn’t usually use it a lot, since it’s not always reliable - but he brings Gavin food often enough now that it’d be easy to slip something in.

But he can’t be sure it’ll work, and if it doesn’t they’ll be suspicious-

 _They won’t suspect you, not now, they trust you_ , he realises, with a sudden sort of pang.

But poison is slow and often painful. Convenient or not, Gavin doesn’t deserve to go out that way. Something quick. Kind. A gun to the head, pull the trigger. It will be over in seconds.

Ryan closes his eyes, taking deep slow breaths. Thinks of the smile Gavin gave him this afternoon when he brought him a sandwich after noticing he’d skipped two meals to finish what he was working on. Thinks of what the look in his eyes will be when he sees Ryan pointing a gun at him and realises that the man he has finally come to trust - finally let in - was a liar, liar, liar all along.

He feels sick.

 _Later_ , he tells himself, _I will do it later - there is too much to plan still. There has not yet been an opportunity to do it quietly_.

He does not sleep much that night.

—

Ryan raps on the doorframe of Gavin’s office. It’s nearly three in the morning.

“Hey,” he says - Gavin looks up, blinking tiredly at him - “Come on, we just finished the heist. You can’t have that much work to do.”

Gavin nods, shutting his laptop before beginning to slowly gather up his belongings. Ryan moves to help him. They pulled a successful job today - got away with hundreds of thousands in cash - and part of him is still buzzing with the thrill of it. It’s one thing to feel satisfied when you pull off an assassination on your own but there’s something even better about celebrating a team effort with the others.

“Need a ride home?” Ryan asks, and Gavin nods. They step outside and both of them shiver as they start heading out towards the car; there’s a cold breeze blowing in from the ocean. Ryan’s gotten too used to being out here, used to the fresh saltiness of the coastal air, the sun on his bare skin after so long wearing the mask (and he does not miss the tan lines that thing used to leave). Gavin bumps against his side as they walk down the hill towards the car park and Ryan can’t tell if it’s because he’s cold or if he’s just tired and listing as he walks. Either way, he drops a hand down onto the younger man’s shoulder.

He knows where Gavin lives, has for a while - has driven him home before. He does not think about the fact that it would be easy to break in and kill him in his house, stage it as an accident. 

Gavin falls asleep in the passenger seat almost as soon as they set off. Ryan glances over at him and there’s a fond smile on his lips before he can quite stop himself at the sight of him slumped against the window, mouth open a little, out like a light.

And then he shakes himself, catches himself-

 _You could crash this car_ , he thinks, _make it look like that killed Gavin while you walk away injured but alive-_

These roads near the coast are empty and dark at night. It would be easy.

He looks over at Gavin again. This is the first time he’s seen him asleep; he tends to avoid that sort of vulnerability even around the other five. His fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

He knows he won’t do it, tonight, here and now.

He knows he _can’t_ do it, and feels a funny odd tightness in his stomach as he shoves the thought from his mind and drives on, taking Gavin safely home.

—

Parker contacts him three days after that. Sends a man to his apartment - one of her sunglasses-wearing lackeys who looks like he stepped straight out of _Men In Black_.

“It’s taking a long time,” the guy drones.

Ryan forces himself to look pleasant as he folds his arms, leaning back against the wall.

“I’m taking it carefully. You can tell Ms. Parker that I’m doing her a favour and making sure they don’t suspect anyone ever infiltrated the crew. It will make it easier for her to kill Ramsey once Free is dead. They trust me now. I’m going to do it soon.”

“Ensure that you do,” the guy says, and there’s a threat in his voice that makes Ryan bristle. “Her patience is growing thin.”

The man leaves. Ryan feels on-edge all day after that, fidgety and nervous. Michael notices and asks what’s wrong and Ryan has to brush him off. Either way word gets out that’s something’s up, and Gavin’s the one who brings him tea this time, that Ryan can only accept with a weak smile and a horrible sick feeling that he’s starting to unfortunately recognise as guilt.

Parker’s on the news the next day - some big deal going down with her company - and Geoff and Ryan have the TV on in the base while they’re doing work when Geoff lets out a mighty snort.

“Richie Rich getting even richer over there, it looks like.”

Ryan looks over and stiffens as he sees her face on the screen. 

“You know her?” he asks carefully, and Geoff nods.

“Bitch hates me.”

“Why?”

“I killed her uncle,” Geoff replies, and his face twists in distaste. “You’ve probably heard of him. Stavros Galanis - better known as the Corpirate.”

“That’s her _uncle_?” Ryan asks - of course he’s heard of the guy, he was one of the richest and most corrupt figures in the country a few years ago. Until someone offed him - they tried to cover it up, but Ryan always had his suspicions.

Geoff nods. “Yeah. Fucking piece of work that guy. Killed a lot of my people - not only the ones in my crew. He owned a lot of this coastline before I took it over. Folks here were terrified of him. She let me take over,” Geoff says, nodding towards Jessica on the screen again, “Didn’t put up a fight. But she inherited a lot of his money. Doubt she’s forgiven or forgotten. It’s only a matter of time until she comes after me as well. But we’ll be ready when she does.”

 _Oh God,_ Ryan thinks. The dramatic irony is killing him slowly. _You’re not ready at all. You have no idea how unprepared you are_.

The Corpirate was a bad man, he knows that much. Much, much worse than Geoff Ramsey and his people could ever be. And Parker, it seems, is following in his footsteps.

Ryan’s never fooled himself into thinking he’s a good person. But he’s never aligned himself with those who are truly cruel, those who reign through terror and fear.

And right now, it seems there’s no denying that he’s misjudged the situation. This isn’t just a case of some businesswoman taking out a crime lord. This is more personal than that, and Parker is by no means the lesser of two evils, and it hits him for the first time the truth that’s been building up for a while now: he’s picked the wrong side here.

—

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Gavin says.

Ryan glances up at him and can’t even bring himself to smile. Lately all he can do is reevaluate who he is and what he is doing.

He likes it here, with the crew. The thought of putting the mask back on and returning to James Haywood fills him with an odd sort of dread. _Ryan_ is not even an act at this point, but himself as he used to be, himself when he lets it all go around the others; friendly, laughing, having fun.

Himself when he lets himself care.

“A lot on my mind,” he replies, and Gavin tilts his head.

“Come for a walk?” he asks.

it’s a terrible day, especially for spring. It’s only late afternoon but the sun has already vanished behind a mass of grey clouds, the overcast sky accompanied by a biting wind and spitting rain. The tide is in and the waves are rolling and lashing against the shoreline.

He trudges along the sand beside Gavin, burning his fingers on too-hot chips from the fish shop. They don’t talk for a long time. It’s good out here, Ryan thinks; the thundering of the waves and the numbing cold are helping him clear his mind.

“I like days like this,” Gavin says finally, shouting to be heard above the wind. “Reminds me of England.”

“What, when the weather’s shit,” Ryan replies, and Gavin laughs.

Ryan looks down at him. Gavin’s all bundled up in his coat, hands shoved deep in his pockets, kicking at a rock and dragging the toe of his sneaker through the wet sand in aimless patterns. His hair, always wild anyway, is windswept and dishevelled and his cheeks are red with the cold-

And Ryan can’t quite work out how he’s let himself get so fond of the man who was meant to be his target.

“Do you miss it?” he asks, and Gavin looks up at him questioningly. “England.”

Gavin doesn’t talk about his past much. Normally Ryan doesn't mind because it means he doesn’t ask questions about Ryan’s own past in return. But today he is curious.

After a moment Gavin shakes his head.

“Not a lot,” he replies. “I have friends there still. We keep in touch but I do miss them. But otherwise… I wouldn’t give up what we have here. Geoff…” He looks away, swallows, then looks back up. “I love Geoff. And Michael. And all the rest. They’re like a family. That’s missing from England. It’s not home anymore. Home’s here, with them. It’s special, you know?”

It is special. Ryan feels it too. That’s the problem. He meets Gavin’s eyes and then glances away, suddenly feeling very cold.

A hand touches his arm and he looks down. Gavin looks hesitant, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” he says quietly. “I’m glad you joined us. It wouldn’t feel the same without you now.”

There's something hopeful in Gavin’s smile. Ryan knows how much it takes for him to admit he cares about people. He thinks about all the laughs they've had together, all the stories they’ve told, all the nights they’ve spent up in each other’s company.

 _I don’t want to kill you_.

All he can do is stare sort of helplessly - unsure what to do, unsure that he’s ever felt such a desire to be part of something in his life - for all that he’s joined the crew by now, the distance of knowing he is here as an outsider, an infiltrator, has kept him from feeling ever properly a part of things. But he wants that now, he wants it so badly that it _hurts_ , and even if Gavin doesn’t realise exactly what’s going on in his mind, he seems able to tell that something is up, that there’s something here that’s pulling at Ryan, that he wants but can’t have. 

He doesn’t push. 

Just squeezes his arm and continues walking along the beach, Ryan trailing along behind.

—

 _Don’t fail us_ , Parker had said.

_Don’t fail us._

Ryan has never quit on a job before. Has never cut and run, especially when he’s already taken up the time and money and resources of an employer.

Parker is powerful. She’s not going to just drop this.

And if he risks this all - his reputation, his name, his _life_ for Ramsey’s crew-

He needs to be certain. He needs to be certain that this is what he wants, where he fits-

Needs to be certain that _he_ can trust _them,_ and after a lifetime of watching people get stabbed in the back or doing the stabbing himself-

It’s hard.

—

And then Gavin nearly dies.

He’s out with Ryan and Michael on a boat, a cargo deal they’re meant to be making, only the guys are giving them trouble. Things go wrong. Guns start firing. They’re outnumbered and waiting for Geoff and the others to come back them up - they're not far - when at some point in all the commotion, Gavin goes overboard.

It happens so fast that Ryan isn’t quite sure how it even plays out. One second Gavin's there, the next he’s not, and Michael is yelling, and Ryan doesn’t even think about it before he’s jumping overboard after him.

The water is freezing and out here the waves are fairly strong. He struggles to avoid being swept back towards the boat as he swims out, looking frantically around before sucking in a breath and diving under.

The saltwater stings his eyes, his vision blurry, and for a terrifying moment there’s no sign of Gavin in the vast darkness around him.

Then he catches it, the slightest blurred form moving nearby, and swims towards it.

Gavin’s hit his head on something; he’s limp and not moving when Ryan gets close. And for a moment, for a horrible moment as his vision clears a little and he sees Gavin’s lifeless body sinking away towards the sea floor-

For a moment his mission returns to him, and he realises this is the accident he’s been waiting for, and if he wanted to-

If he wanted to he could let him fall away now, and drown, and return to Parker and to his old life without a second thought.

The thought lasts for about ten seconds.

Then he shoves it away, and grabs Gavin, and kicks back up to the surface.

His head breaks above the water and he coughs, spitting up water and gasping for breath. Gavin is limp in his arms and Ryan keeps a close grip on him as he treads water, struggling to stay afloat against the current. He can hear gunfire coming from the boat and looks over to see another vessel that Geoff and the others have taken out. He swims over to it. It’s empty; they’re all helping Michael on the other boat, and he hauls Gavin aboard. The other man’s lips are tinged blue and he’s not breathing.

A sudden awful fear seizes Ryan.

“No, come on, _come on_ -”

He thumps on Gavin’s chest a few times, hard, watches his body jolt. Then starts CPR, mechanically - but only moments later Gavin rolls over, coughing up water. Ryan barely steers him upright before he throws up over the side of the boat - steadies him, arms tight around him, worried he’ll fall over again.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he says, smoothing Gavin’s wet hair back from his face. Gavin tries to say something but his teeth are chattering too badly; he’s shaking hard, they both are, and after a moment of looking around in confusion he seems to give up on working out what happened and instead slumps forward against Ryan’s chest, one hand coming up to weakly clutch at the front of the other’s wet shirt. 

Ryan stiffens in surprise for a moment - they get on well but they’re not overly tactile with each other - but then pulls Gavin close, holding onto him tightly. There’s a wound on Gavin’s head that’s bleeding sluggishly, and he feels a fierce protectiveness rise up in him suddenly.

The others find them that way when they return, kneeling on the boat clinging to each other. Ryan hands Gavin off to Geoff, who’s already fussing over him as Jack fetches towels - gripping his face in both hands and running him over for injury - Ray and Michael move over to help Ryan, Ray passing him a towel, Michael helping him out of his wet shirt and jacket.

“You saved him,”  he says, and Ryan looks over at him in confusion.

“Of course I did.”

Michael smiles a bit. 

“Yeah,” he replies, “Of course.”

He moves off to steer the boat. Ryan looks back over at Gavin. He’s sitting on a nearby bench with three towels wrapped around his shoulders and Jack inspecting his head, still looking a bit dazed. Geoff is standing nearby looking down at him, but after a moment he spies Ryan and walks over to him.

“You okay?” he asks.

Ryan nods and Geoff reaches out and presses his arm.

“Thank you,” he says.

Ryan doesn’t need to ask why.

“You dont need to thank me,” he replies, and Geoff smiles at him and squeezes his shoulder again before handing him another dry towel and moving off. Ryan looks after him, puzzled. Today was too close and the crew keeps giving him these pointed looks and he realises, suddenly, that it’s the first time he’s really, properly saved one of them, and maybe for all they trust him he still was sort of the new kid on the block until now.

If they didn't accept him as one of them properly before, they do now, it seems, and he smiles tiredly back at Ray when the other man catches his eye and grins.

He sits down next to Gavin and nods at Jack; Gavin doesn’t look up at him - still seems a bit shell-shocked - but after a moment he leans against Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan puts an arm around him. 

—

That night he goes home and burns the mask and James Haywood with it.

—

—

—

Here they are tonight. The rain lets up as they reach the top of the cliff and a break in the clouds lets the moon shine through; a dim, eerie light that doesn’t provide all that much to see by. Ryan leaves the engine running, the two bright beams of the headlights providing much more illumination.

As the car rolls to a stop a frigid silence descends over them. Ryan dares to look over at Gavin again. He’s still shivering hard, staring out the windscreen ahead of them, chest heaving in ragged breaths. Ryan wonders suddenly if he’s going into shock, and feels a sudden awful pang, because no matter how bad the situation, he’s never seen Gavin fall apart like this before.

“Come on.” He speaks quietly but the words still sound deafening in the silence, and Gavin flinches before opening his door without replying and getting out.

Ryan jumps a little when Gavin slams the car door. He sits for a moment, taking deep breaths and gathering himself before he gets out as well.

The cold hits him like a slap in the face. The rain might have stopped but it’s still freezing out and the wind is buffeting his hair and clothes. Mist is streaming from his mouth with every breath, Gavin’s too, and the car’s exhaust is fogging gently into the night air.

Gavin’s taken a few paces away and Ryan glances over at him as he moves to open the boot. He’s put the gun back in his belt, at least, but his arms are wrapped around himself now, head thrown back and staring up at the dark sky, pacing back and forth. He cuts a painfully small figure and for a moment Ryan’s half afraid the winds will sweep him off the cliff as well.

“Gavin,” he calls out, and Gavin turns back towards him and comes over, but will not meet his eyes.

The trunk smells like blood the second he opens it, and the wind carries it right into their faces. Gavin gags immediately, turning away and retching, and Ryan reaches out without thinking about it and pats him on the back, only to snatch his hand back when Gavin squirms away.

“Don’t touch me,” Gavin says - it comes out desperate more than angry - and Ryan bites his lip and turns away. 

It takes both of them to drag the body out. The man is large and heavy set and the wound in the back of his head is messy. When they lift it up a rush of blood comes out, spattering over both of them. Gavin lets out a low whimper and Ryan grits his teeth. He’s seen worse but there is something very terrible about this, now, up here on this dark cliff in the middle of the night.

“Let’s get this over with,” he says, adjusting his grip on the man’s upper half. His shoulder hurts like hell and it’s hard to lift it, but he shoves the pain to the back of his mind. Gavin lifts the man’s legs and together, slowly, they carry the corpse over to the cliff’s edge.

The railing around the cliffside is old and rotted away. Ryan feels oddly dizzy as he gets to the edge. He’s never been afraid of heights but his head swims a little now. In the dark the sea and the sky blend together and the waves shifting below look curiously distorted, like his head is spinning and he’s hallucinating the movement out towards the horizon. The sound of waves slapping against rock a constant giddy background rush in his ears.

It’s hard to get the body over the rail; Ryan clambers over first, hauling the heavy man half-over with him. Then Gavin scrambles over and together they pull the rest of him to the other side. There is not much room between the rail and the drop.

Together they heave the body over the cliff and watch it fall away into the darkness below. It vanishes out of sight. The wind is too loud to hear it hit the rocks. Ryan hopes the damage will be enough to disguise how he died. That it will be a long time before anyone goes looking and even longer before they find him there, especially if the currents pull him further out into the ocean.

Gavin’s leaning forward to look over the edge. He starts to sway, listing like he’s about to pass out, and Ryan is seized with a sudden fear that he’s going to fall down too. He grabs his arm and yanks him away from the edge, dragging him back towards the fence.

“Get off me,” Gavin snaps. He shoves him away and Ryan stumbles back, catching himself, acutely aware of the drop behind him. He’s between Gavin and the cliff edge now and he has the sudden horrible thought that Gavin could well push him over next.

He has no idea where they stand with each other now, no idea where the night’s events have left them-

Gavin turns away and climbs shakily back over the fence. Ryan quickly follows. Even on the stable ground closer to the car he feels like he’s tottering on the edge of a precipice, like he could fall any second.

He clears his throat. Gavin’s standing a little way away with his back to him.

“We tell Geoff that we were attacked,” Ryan says. “We tell him that he died in the crossfire and we got rid of the body so-”

“Shut up.” Gavin’s voice is tight and when he spins around to face Ryan his face is white and drawn. “Just - just stop.”

Ryan’s mouth snaps shut. Gavin’s eyes meet his and they’re wide and desperate. He reaches up and runs his hands through his messy hair.

“You don’t get to keep lying,” Gavin says.

Ryan swallows. “You’re going to tell Geoff the truth then.”

“I don’t bloody know.” Gavin swipes a hand at him angrily and turns away again, pulling his coat tighter around himself. Ryan stares at him, pained, with no idea what to fucking do now. It seems to be getting colder and colder out here and as they stand there in a sickening silence the moon fades back behind a cloud and the rain starts up again in gentle spatters. It’s good, Ryan thinks dimly, it will wash the body out into the ocean.

“Get back in the car,” he says finally. “I don’t know if anyone’s coming after us. We can’t stay here.”

“I’m not,” Gavin says, and turns to him again, taking a deep breath, “Getting in a fucking car with you.”

“Gavin.”

“What, _Ryan_ \- or should I call you _Vagabond_ now?” He spits it like a curse. “What are you going to do?”

Ryan doesn’t know. Ryan doesn’t know a fucking thing. Gavin is hurt, he knows, and angry, and scared, and it’s all Ryan’s fucking fault and he - he doesn’t know what to do at all. Hasn’t a fucking _clue_.

Gavin lets out a bitter laugh at his silence.

“Bloody fantastic,” he says. “Because I don’t know what the hell to do either. Guess we’ll stand here like two idiots then. Getting wet in the rain.”

“It’s not safe out here,” Ryan begins, and Gavin scoffs.

“And it’s safe with _you_ -”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Ryan snaps, because that is the one thing he cannot stand now, that Gavin should be _afraid_ of him - “I’m not going to do anything to you-”

“You think I’m _stupid_ , Ryan?” Gavin bursts out, and there’s something hysterical in his voice now. “You think I don’t _see_ now? From the second you got here it was me, you targeted _me_ , you were so - so _nice,_ weren’t you. Every single thing you did, every night you stayed back and helped me… the Vagabond joining our fucking crew. Taking every precaution to make sure I wouldn’t suspect it was you. Doing everything you could to make me _trust_ you so that you could slip past our defences. Well fucking shame on me because it worked. It _worked_.”

“I can explain-"

“ _Can you_?” Gavin demands. “Do I want to hear why? Will I _understand_?”

Ryan breaks off again. His stomach hurts. He _can’t_ explain, not in any way that will calm Gavin down right now. What’s he meant to say? _I was there to kill you. I was there to kill Geoff-_

And this is _Gavin_ , Gavin who takes the weight of his job so seriously, Gavin who let him get so close, so close, so _close_ -

Gavin who turns away now, hands coming up to cover his face.

“I trusted you,” he says. “I thought we were friends, I thought that we…”

He trails off, voice breaking, and Ryan can see it playing out in his mind, the dim room, his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, the sound of the bonfire outside. How fragile and vulnerable he was there, sickly similar to how shaky and exposed he is here now. How Ryan back then was his solid reassurance that things would be okay. How here, tonight, Ryan is everything he was so frightened of all along.

It hurts him too.

“Stupid, _stupid.”_ Gavin tears at his hair, wavering almost drunkenly where he stands. _“Ryan King_ \- I should have known when I couldn’t find anything on you. You don’t _exist_.”

The words hurt. Because they’re not true, they're _not_ \- he’s lied, yes, but Ryan was always real, _too_ real, even if it took him a while to realise it.

“None of it was real,” Gavin continues then, and something snaps in Ryan.

“That’s not how it is,” he says sharply, “That’s not how it _is_ ,” and he steps forward, reaching for Gavin. Frantic suddenly. Thinking that if he can only get a hold of him and pull him close and calm him down then he’ll _see_ , he’ll see that Ryan is still here, that this might be one big fucking mess but it’s a mess they can work through. That no matter what else happens this between _them_ is real.

But Gavin leaps back when he reaches for him and the next thing Ryan knows the gun is pointed at him again. He freezes, blood running cold, feeling like the breath has been punched out of him. He steps back, hands rising.

“D-don’t get any closer,” Gavin cries. His voice is shaking so badly that he can hardly get the words out. His hands are shaking too, the gun wavering all over the place, and Ryan’s afraid he may pull the trigger by accident.

Everything hurts. Everything _hurts_ because they were close, so _close_ , and now he’s ruined everything and Gavin hates him-

For a moment the self pity and self loathing rise up so much he can barely breathe. But he blinks the rain from his eyes and focuses on Gavin’s face and realises, abruptly, how fucking terrified he looks.

He forces himself to relax, to keep his hands raised and take two steps back so Gavin knows he’s not about to try and get near him again.

 _He doesn’t hate you_ , he tells himself.

 _He is scared, and confused, and overwhelmed by all that has happened tonight._ And Ryan can see it, how wide Gavin’s eyes are, how his chest is rising and falling too fast and his legs are shaking and seem barely capable of holding him up.

“Gavin,” he says gently, “Calm down.”

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut and takes several deep breaths, obviously trying as hard as possible to get himself under control. Ryan aches to go over and hold him but forces himself to remain still. He watches as Gavin gulps a few times before letting out a long, slow rush of breath, something careful and blank shuttering down over his face as he straightens up, squaring his shoulders, gathering himself, and Ryan lets out a breath of relief-

Only to freeze when he realises the gun hasn’t moved.

Gavin might have calmed down, but it’s still pointing square at him, and Ryan slowly brings his eyes up to meet Gavin’s.

He can’t read his face.

He looks uncharacteristically serious, but beyond that, blank and cold, and there is something abruptly terrifying about that that sends a chill down Ryan’s spine. He keeps his hands up.

Gavin’s lips part a little but he doesn’t say anything and Ryan remembers suddenly how he was at the start; careful, suspicious, intensely tracking down every detail about the people they were going to work with. Removing any he deemed a threat. Paranoid and careful because - he remembers Michael telling him now - _incidents_. Times he’s trusted the wrong people and been burned because of it. And the other things Gavin has told him. _I have the scars to prove it._

And now he has become a threat.

No matter how Gavin feels about _Ryan_ , right now all he knows is that the man standing before him has Lied and that this is his worst fear come to life - to trust someone - to _love_ someone - and have them be an infiltrator to the crew all along-

God, this has played out in the worst way possible. He should have come clean sooner. 

Ryan swallows, hard, and raises his hands higher. He meets Gavin’s eyes and doesn’t break his gaze. And asks, calmly: 

“Are you going to kill me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be a oneshot but it got too long and I couldn't finish it in time for Kayla's birthday aha, so I shall split it into two chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to get up! Been busy lately~

Three days ago they kissed for the first time.

Three hours ago the lies unravelled.

Three minutes ago Gavin pulled his gun on Ryan.

Now the silence between them seems to stretch on forever. Ryan doesn’t break Gavin’s gaze - keeps his eyes trained calmly on him, hands raised - even as he feels the rain slowly soak him to the bone and the paint begin to run down his face. He’d half forgotten he had it on. Gavin hasn’t replied, is just standing staring at him, the gun shaking slightly in his hands but still trained squarely at Ryan’s chest, and Ryan can see him struggling, struggling, trying to wrap his head around all that’s happened.

Trying to work out what he’s going to do next.

He can see the pain in Gavin’s eyes, the desperate fear - but by the time five minutes have passed, Ryan knows the other man has taken too long, and a little of the tension in his shoulders relaxes.

Gavin’s not going to kill him.

He can tell that he doesn’t want to, that he can’t bring himself to do it the same way all those months ago Ryan couldn’t bring himself to kill _him_ , and now, despite the gun, despite everything, Ryan dares to hope that maybe, just maybe, he can get Gavin to understand.

“That’s not necessary,” he says quietly - breaking the silence - Gavin just stares at him a moment longer. That cold look is still on his face but his eyes are wide and with his wet hair plastered to his forehead and dripping down his face, his jacket clinging to his shoulders and his hands shaking, he looks like a drowned rat more than anything else. And after a second, his composure breaks a little. He doesn’t lower the gun, but he does let out a tired breath and reach up to run his other hand over his face.

“I don’t know what the hell to do about you, Ryan,” he says raggedly, and Ryan barks out a humourless laugh.

“You could start by putting the gun down.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows and Gavin steels up again, brows furrowing as he glares at him, hand more steady where he’s raising the weapon now.

“I’ve messed up once trusting you, I don’t… it can’t happen again, not when I’m not… not when I’m not sure. I don’t know who you are or what you want and I-”

“You know that I don’t want to hurt you,” Ryan grinds out, because Gavin’s words are cutting deep now, just what the other man thinks of the Vagabond, “You know that I-”

He breaks off, Gavin’s eyes widening a little.

“That I care for you,” he finishes, slightly awkwardly. “I promise you, I… I lied about other things. About who I was and, and why I was here. But everything that’s happened between us the last few months, that was all real. That was all _real_.”

For a moment Gavin stares at him and Ryan stares back, earnestly, begging him to believe it. But then Gavin’s lips press together tightly, and he shakes his head.

“How can I believe that,” he asks, voice strained, “When you lied this whole time? What were you doing in the crew?”

“I lied at the beginning, okay, but the rest - the rest was real. Since I joined the crew I… It’s where I fit now, and I wasn’t going to hide it _forever_ -” That is a lie, of sorts, he can’t know that, can’t know how things might have played out differently-

“You should have told me _sooner_ ,” Gavin cries, and all Ryan can do is hang his head, jaw aching with how hard he’s clenching it.

“I should have,” he agrees, and takes a deep breath before looking up at Gavin again, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes - “I know I should have,” his voice breaks a little and he sees Gavin swallow hard, “But I...”

_But I what_?

_I was scared._  

_Things changed._

_I_ fell _for you-_  

“I don’t know if I can believe you any more,” Gavin says, and despite his squared shoulders and the gun still pointed at Ryan’s heart, it comes out pitifully small. “God, I’ve fucked up, I… it’s not meant to be like this. This is why I can’t get _close,_ even now I can’t - I can’t tell-”

_Can’t tell if you’re lying to me_ , Ryan knows, and closes his eyes again, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut. 

He can see Gavin straining to wrap his head around everything, can see the terrible struggle raging inside him. His desire to trust Ryan, to believe him, warring against his awful fear of this exact thing happening - someone worming their way into the crew only to reveal their true colours all along - being played, betrayed, emotionally compromised...

Before anything else can happen, however, a sound catches Ryan’s attention over the roaring wind and rain. Gavin hears it too, head turning.

“Someone’s coming,” Ryan says.

He turns, slowly - keeping his hands up, aware that Gavin’s still pointing the gun - and takes a few steps back towards the car so that he can see the road winding back down the hill. Sure enough, the telltale flash of headlights are visible, small now but steadily drawing closer to them as whoever it is approaches. 

“There are more. They’re after us,” Ryan says, turning back to Gavin.

“The people you were working for,” Gavin replies stiffly, and Ryan nods.

“We need to go,” he says, and then curses as he glances over again and notices another set of headlights. “There’s only one road down. We’ll run right into them. We’re outnumbered.”

“Torch,” Gavin says, and Ryan blinks at him.

“What?”

“Get the torch from the glove box,” Gavin snaps, waving the gun at the car. “And then turn those bloody headlights off.”

He sounds like he has a plan, so Ryan swallows and then obeys. He shuts the car’s engine off and then retrieves the flashlight. He checks the clip of his own gun and shoves it in his belt before turning back to Gavin.

“I got it,” he says, switching it on - it’s nearly pitch black here without the car’s lights on - but Gavin’s looking at his weapon now, still pointing the gun at him. 

“Give me your gun,” he orders, and Ryan frowns. 

“I’m not gonna be fucking unarmed if those guys come up here-”

“That wasn’t a _request_ , Ryan.” Gavin’s voice is harsh and cold again and Ryan swallows hard. 

Gavin’s close enough to him now that if he wanted he could lunge forward, grab his wrist and wrestle the gun from him. But seizing Gavin and getting rough with him is a one-track way to destroying any possible remaining shred of trust he has in him, and with a disgruntled sigh he passes his gun to the other man. Gavin snatches it and shoves it in his own belt. He must know Ryan’s still got two hidden knives on him, but he doesn’t seem to care, jerking his head towards the cliff’s edge. 

“Walk that way.” 

“Gavin,” Ryan says carefully, “What’s the plan here?” 

“I know another way down,” Gavin replies curtly. “You hold the torch. Climb over the fence and turn left - there’s a trail down. It’ll be slippery but if we’re careful we can get down and walk back around.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ryan snaps, heart suddenly thundering again at the thought that Gavin could be about to walk him off the cliff - that and the fucking thing is pretty damn steep, some questionable ‘secret trail’ down in the pitch black and the _rain_ is really not his idea of a good plan. “We slip and we’re dead.” 

“The trail’s fine,” Gavin says sharply, and Ryan stiffens again as the barrel of the gun bumps against his back. “Just walk already.”

He clenches his teeth, but gets moving. Gavin’s right behind him and he doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that the gun’s still pointed at him. He clambers over the fence and turns left and, after casting the torch about, sure enough finds a steep, winding trail down the other side of the cliff. It’s a footpath, overgrown with beachgrass and sandwort. Obviously very rarely used - but not as dangerous as he was imagining it to be, and he lets out a long, slow breath.

He’s been here a year now but he’s done most of his work for Geoff in the other cities. This beach area is unfamiliar to him, but Gavin knows it intimately. And Gavin may not trust him right now, but Ryan - despite the gun pointed at his back - trusts _him_ , at least, to know what he’s doing here.

“This way?” he asks, waving the torch, and twists his neck around just in time to catch Gavin’s nod. He can’t see much of him in the darkness, but he can hear his teeth chattering faintly in the rain and freezing cold, and feels another wrench deep in his gut.

Parker will have spared no expense in the people she’s sent after him. This is a bad, bad situation to be in, but he wouldn’t be quite as afraid if there wasn’t this massive rift between himself and Gavin. He knows that if they work together they have a good shot at getting out of this.

But right now, right now with the most immediate threat to his safety being the man he cares about most in all the world, he doesn’t feel quite as confident.

But there’s nothing to be done now, and turning back to the path he grits his teeth, and steadies himself. And begins his slow descent; Gavin close behind him, and the gun bumping his back every now and then, and the waves crashing sickeningly against the rocks below.

— 

—

—

Three days after burning his mask Ryan moves apartments.

His main place was in one of the biggest cities under Geoff’s rule, and it’s the only way that Parker has of contacting him. He sells it quietly and stays on the move after that, never staying in one spot more than a few weeks. Swaps out his phone and vehicles whenever possible.

For all that the movement should make him feel uprooted, for all that it reminds him of how he used to be, skipping jobs all over the country - it doesn’t; he feels grounded to what has become his new source of stability.

The crew. 

Now that he’s cast aside his old job, now that he’s made the decision to commit himself to them entirely, he feels remarkably happier and more secure. And as the days and weeks and months go by and he avoids any contact with Parker, his old life fades from his mind until some days he can entirely forget that he was ever the Vagabond at all.

Without that impending knowledge in the back of his mind that this is going to come to a terrible end, he relaxes somewhat. Lets himself get closer to the others.

—

Closer, of course, to Gavin.

—

Now that Ryan’s been fully accepted into the crew Geoff starts assigning him to more important jobs. And Ryan, in turn, stops holding back on his abilities, lets himself live up to the title of the best assassin the Fake AH Crew has ever seen. If Geoff needs someone taken out, he’s the one to do it - if someone needs intimidating or Geoff needs someone to watch his back, Ryan’s the man.

But he also, soon, starts working closely with Gavin. While the other man can get a lot of work done just at his computer, there always comes a point where people need to be screened in person. It used to be Ray who went with him as backup, but now that he has Ryan Geoff tends to send him instead. Ray calls it “babysitting” but Ryan enjoys it, having a little break from the other often exhausting jobs the crew handles. Driving out somewhere with Gavin and lurking around, stone-faced, ready to have his back if something goes wrong. He knows Gavin can take care of himself if it comes to it but Geoff prefers not to take the chance; Ryan can’t blame him, not when he knows so personally that people will try and get to Ramsey through him. 

They have fun, on their little outings. Stupid conversations in the car on the way there. Discussions of whoever they just met on their way back. Gavin’s scrutinising and careful and often able to immediately and accurately read the people they’re meeting with, to tell right away if they’re lying or unreliable. Ryan can’t help feeling relieved that he no longer has to be nervous about Gavin reading something into his true intentions.

Despite that, the other man often asks for his opinion on whoever it is they’re meeting, and puts stock in his answer too; Ryan feels oddly flattered at that. He knows how seriously Gavin takes his job and it’s a sign of trust that warms him.

They’re out on one such outing when it really hits Ryan how close he’s gotten to the other man. He’s hanging back, leaning against a wall watching Gavin talk to the guy, casual but at attention should something suddenly go wrong.

Their contact is a weaselly looking man, with beady eyes and greasy hair. He works in smuggling too and as fishy as he looks, he’s checked out so far as reliable. Having met him in person, however, he’s starting to get aggressive, trying to push to get a bigger cut from the deal they want to make with him. Gavin’s reasoning with him calmly, patiently, but Ryan can tell he’s starting to get antsy. He straightens up, walking forward in case this is about to go wrong.

“Look,” Gavin cuts in finally over the other man’s rambling demands. “If you keep trying to change the terms we already set, I don’t think we can do business.”

The guy stares at him, and Gavin stares back, eyebrows raised over his sunglasses. When the other man just continues to glare at him, Gavin sighs, turning away. 

The guy’s face clouds over.

“Look, boy,” he starts, and grabs Gavin’s arm, yanking him back around.

Ryan moves like lightning. Without even thinking about it he rips the man’s hand off Gavin and then snaps his wrist back. There’s a sickening crack followed by a moment of silence before the man begins to scream.

He’s brought two goons with him and their guns are out in a snap, but Ryan’s got his out quicker and Gavin isn’t slow on the draw either.

“We’re _leaving_ ,” Gavin snaps, as the man stumbles back - he has his gun trained on one man, Ryan the other, and they slowly back out of the meeting place and back towards their car. Luckily their contact doesn't seem inclined to shoot at them; the men don’t follow and Ryan and Gavin get into their vehicle and drive off quickly.

Ryan’s heart is racing from the adrenaline - even if nothing happened, when guns come out the possibility for shit to go wrong is always there - and he takes a few deep breaths where he sits in the passenger seat, leaning out the window to make sure they’re not being followed.

Gavin, driving, lets out a huff of breath.

“Jesus, Ryan,” he says. “There goes that deal.”

Ryan’s attention snaps back to him.

“You okay?” he asks, and Gavin glances across at him.

“Dude! I’m fine. What the hell was that?”

“He grabbed you.”

“And I could have easily shaken him off. You didn’t need to go and break his damn wrist! Christ.”

“Are you angry?” Ryan asks, suddenly a bit uncertain, but Gavin just grins, shaking his head.

“Nah. He was an asshole anyway. Would never have worked with him after he kept pushing for a bigger cut. Bad egg like that only keeps getting worse. You just surprised me.” He glances across at Ryan again and then gives a small, almost hesitant smile. “But thank you.”

“Hey, I’m there for a reason,” Ryan replies, but Gavin stares at him a moment longer before giving an awkward sort of nod and turning away, that little smile still playing at his lips. 

Ryan glances away, feeling suddenly almost flustered; he hadn’t exactly expected to react that suddenly and violently either. The sudden surge of protectiveness has surprised him, but he shakes it off, trying not to read too much into it.

—

Life goes on. He becomes comfortable in the routine of life with the crew. Doesn’t think much about how he got there.

But he cannot hide from his past forever. It creeps up at the most unexpected of times.

He’s hanging out at the main base with the lads one day, just eating lunch and talking, when Ray brings it up.

“Wonder what happened to the Vagabond,” he pipes up - they’ve been talking about other assassins around the country, so Ryan should have expected it - but somehow he didn’t, half-forgot that he himself existed, and the mention of the name sends a chill down his spine. 

“I know right!” Gavin cries. “He just disappeared one day and hasn’t been seen since. You reckon someone offed him?”

“Maybe,” Ray replies.

Ryan’s heart is pounding. He slowly lowers his sandwich.

“I don’t know,” Michael muses, “Guy was talented as fuck. It’d be hard to kill him - you’d think whoever did it would be bragging about it.”

“Maybe it was an accident,” Gavin suggests. “He got sick or crashed his car or something.”

“Yeah, but word’d still get around,” Michael points out.

Gavin shrugs, and turns to Ryan. “What do you think, Ry? You’re involved with all those sorts of people.”

“I think he went overseas a while ago,” Ryan replies, keeping his voice carefully controlled. “Maybe he just never came back.”

“The mercenary migrated,” Ray says, and shrugs. “Feasible.”

They drop the subject after that, thank God, but Gavin - sharp Gavin - has noticed something’s wrong. Of course he has. After Michael and Ray get up to do other things he scoots over to sit in the chair next to Ryan.

“Hey, everything okay? You look a bit off.”

Ryan forces a smile.

“I’m fine, Gav.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He feels sick to lie, suddenly. Especially since Gavin’s staring at him now with a genuine sort of concern, something he doesn’t often show, and a horrible sort of guilt fills Ryan suddenly at lying to his face like this.

He can’t deny he’s thought of coming clean to the others a few times, because he knows lies can build up and the longer he leaves it the worse it’ll be if it suddenly comes out - but it’s just easier, for now, to try and forget about it. To leave the past behind him.

—

—

This is the part where Ryan falls in love.

He’s close with all the crew by now. He’s found his niche with them and things have gotten comfortable. He’s one of Geoff’s most trusted, and the only person aside from Michael who Ray likes to partner up with, and Jack often calls him in to consult on plans or offer his opinions about something.

And then, of course, there is Gavin. The fact that Ryan was pushing to get close to him from the start has meant they’ve spent so much time together by now that of course they’re good friends.

But things begin to change some months after Ryan joins the crew for real. 

They spend a great deal of time driving around together; to meetings or preparing for heists or travelling between cities. There’s never a dull moment with Gavin and even when they’re fighting about maths or probability or Gavin’s numerous scientifically inaccurate would-you-rather questions, Ryan can’t help the warm fondness that swells up in his chest at every interaction with the other man. 

He starts getting to know things. What music Gavin likes on the radio and how he’s apparently incapable of not making about three different vines on every long road trip. How he looks when he falls asleep in the passenger seat, head slumped against the window with his cap sitting low over his eyes to protect him from the sun’s glare through the warm glass. 

They talk a lot while driving, about pointless things mostly. Sometimes about the others, or themselves - Ryan’s always conscious, in those moments, of not giving too much of his identity away, but he finds more than enough to talk about without going into the details.

“You’re not dating anyone right,” Gavin asks one day - they’re on the topic, so it doesn’t really come out of the blue - and Ryan shakes his head.

“God, I can’t remember the last proper relationship I was in,” he says, with a bit of a laugh - since he donned the mask he’s been very much alone. Gotten so used to it that the thought that now that he’s given it up he could much more easily - and safely - get together with someone has barely crossed his mind until now.

“Really?” Gavin asks, sounding interested. “And you never - never missed it or anything?”

“Far too busy to think about it. What about you?” he asks, glancing over at Gavin, suddenly intensely curious. He’s seen the other man awkwardly hitting on people when they go out to bars, though rarely following through on it. And Gavin’s never mentioned a partner, so he assumes he’s currently single - he spends so much time working that it’d be hard to keep up a relationship with anyone who didn’t work with their crew anyway.

Gavin shakes his head.

“Was with a guy in England for a bit. Nothing since then.” A rueful grin. “Geoff keeps me well busy, anyway.”

“Doesn’t he just,” Ryan replies with a laugh, and they fall into a comfortable silence - or at least, Ryan does; he realises after a moment that Gavin’s still glancing over at him now and then and abruptly the other man brings them back to the conversation with a rather awkward announcement of: 

“Both single pringles then, I suppose.”

Ryan glances over at him and Gavin looks away quickly, almost shyly. Ryan gives him a curious look - doesn’t want to think too hard on what that’s all supposed to mean - but then shrugs and elbows him good naturedly.

“Too busy breaking laws and getting rich! Who’s got time for all that?” he asks, and Gavin smiles a bit.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and then leans his head against the window.

Ryan stares at him a moment longer before reaching out and turning the radio on.

—

Things change after that. Ryan starts to notice the little looks and smiles Gavin gives him, the times when he suddenly seems to grow awkward and quiet, like he’s reverted back to his earlier shyness. Ryan’s observant; it’s the same way he sees Gavin look at people in the bar when he wants to go chat them up. He doesn’t want to assume, and brushes it from his mind for the most part - but it changes the way he looks at Gavin too. 

He’s worked alone on jobs for so long that for it took him a while to get used to having the others there over the earpiece. Now it feels like something is missing if he doesn’t have Gavin’s constant banter in his ear. It becomes a reassurance of sorts, as well, someone having his back like that. Even when they’re not talking, hearing the other’s gentle breathing and knowing he’s out there somewhere watching over him. Gavin trusts him now but it goes both ways; Ryan trusts him too. 

When they do pull heists together Gavin is the one he finds himself glancing over at - exchanging grins with - the thrill of adrenaline heightens everything on jobs like this. It makes him hyper-aware of things, like the way Gavin’s eyes shine behind his mask and the way his voice sounds when he’s out of breath and the faint smell of his aftershave when they’re pressed together against a wall for cover.

When they escape victorious there is always whooping and high-fives and claps on shoulders, and after one particularly invigorating job Gavin abruptly leaps into Ryan’s arms and hugs him. He stumbles, caught off guard, stiffening for a moment before he hugs him back without really thinking about it. His heart is pounding and he can feel Gavin’s, too, against his chest. He holds on a little too long and feels oddly embarrassed when Gavin shifts and he has to quickly pull away. Gavin’s grinning but his face is flushed and he turns away to tackle Michael next - Ryan stares after him, feeling oddly off balance, too aware of the lingering warmth of Gavin’s body against his.

It is not hard to work out, after that, the direction his feelings are going in.

Summer hits and they’re so close to secluded parts of the beach that they go swimming a lot, Michael and Gavin especially. Ryan doesn’t mind joining in, though at first he spends most of his time sitting on the sand watching them splash about.

Gavin’s a good swimmer, surprisingly more graceful in water than he is on land. Ryan tries not to stare but it’s hard when suddenly he can’t stop noticing how good Gavin looks in the summertime, with the sun painting his hair golden and the water sliding down his tanned skin when he emerges from the sea.

When he first takes his shirt off Ryan is a bit taken aback; first by the fact that his chest hair could put a Wookie to shame, and secondly by a horrible scar on his side. It looks like a stab wound, and a pretty fucking bad one, deep and messy. By the looks of it it’s a few years old and even if it’s probably entirely healed by now, it still looks awful.

Michael has some shockers too and Ryan knows he’s certainly not untouched himself, but Gavin’s comparatively less scarred than the rest of them because more than half of his time is spent sitting around the base. Part of him wants to ask what happened. He thinks by now Gavin would tell him. But the right time never quite comes up - he knows that he himself has more than enough scars he’d rather not tell the story behind - and the opportunities slip away. 

It takes a while for him to get in the water himself. He’s never really been a beach person and swimming, especially in the ocean, isn’t really his thing. But it’s hard to resist when it’s Gavin beckoning him in, and it’s even harder not to notice when he finally does give in that Gavin spends a hell of a lot of time staring at him and turning red whenever he gets caught. 

—

They start spending more time together outside of work. When they’re both in the same city they’ll go out walking on the beach. There are a lot of hiking trails around the cliff area that Gavin knows well, and Ryan enjoys it, the exercise and the bracing fresh air and Gavin chattering away by his side. Even when they’re not in the same place Gavin sends him stupid snapchats or strings of text messages whenever he’s bored at his desk while Ryan’s out doing something more exciting. 

He even goes over to Gavin’s flat a few times - crashes on his couch once - finds even that space oddly charming with its scattered mess of DVDs and games, the kitchen that’s got barely anything beyond Red Bull in it because Gavin doesn’t come home to do much except sleep. Gavin never asks to come over to his and Ryan’s glad of it, still constantly on the move. But even if he doesn’t spend all that much time at Gavin’s flat, it has that same comfortable, familiar feel of _home_ that everything associated with the crew does now. 

It’s another side to Gavin that he slowly becomes aware of, something shy and awkward in his tentative glances and smiles that Ryan quickly comes to find _endearing_. It doesn’t take him long to decide that he likes Gavin a great deal, and he’s pretty sure Gavin likes him too.

Michael’s picked up on it now as well, of course.

“Your boyfriend is waiting for you,” he’ll tell Gavin when the other man is running late for them to go out on a job-

Or “I’ll give you two some alone time,” with a suggestive look in Gavin’s direction when Ryan comes to join them for lunch-

Or knocking on the door to Gavin’s office whenever they’re both in there and dramatically asking if it’s safe for him to come in. Gavin will go red and swat at him every time but Michael just laughs, knowingly, and Ryan looks on with an amused smile.

“He’s an idiot,” Gavin will tell him after Michael leaves, and Ryan just nods and grins at him.

It’s obvious where things are heading. It’s even more obvious that Ryan wants this too, that the thought that Gavin likes him fills him with a jittery, almost flustered sort of excitement that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. 

Either way, he knows Gavin’s too shy to make a move. That it will probably be up to him. But thing is, Ryan can be pretty damn shy as well when it comes to… to things like this. Things that he hasn’t done in so long he’s half forgotten how it feels, how it all works, and he doesn’t want to make a wrong move and ruin everything. So he leaves it, lets himself just enjoy the pleasant buzzing excitement of knowing that eventually something will happen. No need to rush it.

—

It is coming up on a year since Ryan has joined the crew.

“Let’s not get fucking sappy about it,” Geoff says when he calls him into his office to have a drink. “But I do mean it, King, it feels like you’ve been here forever. Crew wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Ryan nods, smiling. By this point it doesn’t so much as cross his mind that his original goal was to kill this man who he now sees as one of his closest friends.

“But anyway,” Geoff says then, setting his whiskey down. “We have a bit of a tradition here.”

“Who doesn’t love a good tradition,” Ryan mutters, and Geoff smiles a bit. 

“On the one-year anniversary you get to plan the next heist,” Geoff says, and Ryan pauses, breath catching a bit.

For all that he’s proven himself to the others he still very much just takes Geoff’s orders - part of being so new - and for someone so used to working on his own it has been a struggle at times, even if by this point he respects Geoff’s authority. But he’s heard the others telling wild stories of the heists they each planned and all of them were pretty fucking incredible. The heists he’s been on with the crew since joining have been exhilarating in a way even the most challenging hits in his time as an assassin couldn’t quite achieve. 

“You’re a creative guy,” Geoff says then, with a knowing grin. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”

Ryan nods.

“I have a few ideas,” he replies, and then grins back at Geoff, who raises his glass and clinks it up against his.

“Awesome. You’ve only got two months or so, so nothing _too_ big, but. Make it interesting.”

“Oh, that’ll be one way of putting it,” Ryan says gleefully, and Geoff laughs again.

—

Two months is not a lot of time to plan, but Ryan’s an efficient worker. He works out a target immediately - one of the bank’s armoured trucks - and sets about planning. The others help out, but for the most part he wants to work on his own, to do this himself.

It’s busy on top of all his other jobs, but he’s excited enough about it that it’s not a chore, even if he spends a lot of late nights working on plans and organising ordnance and transport. Back-ups in case things go wrong. More than ever he’s not just hanging back at base to wait for Gavin, but working alongside him in a companionable silence.

One week before the big hit he’s leaving one of their other safehouses in town where he’d been working late, making some calls to confirm everything’s in order before the job. None of the others are around - all off doing other things - and it’s a cold, misty night as summer starts to turn to autumn. He’s staying in a flat near here at the moment - one of his many temporary places - but as he walks out towards where his car is parked in the street, he freezes, some sudden instinct kicking in that he’s being watched.

Slowly, car keys in hand, he turns. At the other end of the street two men stand, watching him.

Black suits. Dark sunglasses even though it’s night. Despite the situation he can’t help the faint tug of amusement he feels as the accessories make him think of Gavin and his incessant gold-rimmed aviators. The smile fades quickly, though, when the men begin to step towards him, and his hand goes to his gun.

“Can I help you?” he calls out, and they pause a few metres from the car.

“James Haywood,” one of them says, and Ryan stiffens, a literal chill creeping down his spine. It’s been a long, long time since he heard the name. So long he could almost forget. So long he _wanted_ to forget. And the sound of it now fills him with an awful, looming dread. This is the moment he always knew would come.

_They’ve found me._

_I can’t run from this any more_.

“I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for,” he begins, but the man just scoffs and shakes his head.

“You know who wants to talk to you,” he begins, and there’s a click behind Ryan. He turns to see another man and a woman stepping out from the shadows of the street behind him, both pointing guns - he hadn’t even heard them approach. They’re good. He turns back to the first man in time to see him paste on a bland smile. “I don’t think it would be wise to refuse her.”

Ryan grits his teeth. He doesn’t take his hand off his gun as his gaze flicks between the four people. He could take them, probably. But it’d be a hell of a lot of trouble, and he knows Parker can always send more. Like it or not he has to deal with this, and talking to her might at least buy him a bit of time. Better, for now, not to reveal his weaknesses. How close he’s gotten to the others.

He gives a calm nod.

“Very well then. Take me to her.”

“Your gun,” the man says, holding out a hand, but Ryan shakes his head.

“That won’t be necessary. We’re just talking, after all.”

The man raises his eyebrows, exchanges a glance with the woman behind Ryan, and then gives a curt nod.

He doesn’t put away his gun as he gets in his car with two of them, the others following along in another vehicle behind. The men he’s with don’t put their weapons down either. There’s a tense silence the entire drive out of the town and towards another of the bigger cities about an hour away.

Ryan’s mind is in overdrive. He has no idea what to do. Perhaps he should have planned better for the inevitable but part of him had stupidly decided that it would be feasible just to ignore Parker, a problem for future-Ryan to deal with. Well, here it is now, and he’s fucking kicking himself for not deciding what to do about all this sooner. Of course Parker won’t just drop it.

There’s little way he can convince her that he’s just taking a very, very long time with the hit. But if he can buy himself a little more time - just until after the heist - then he can deal with this properly. 

The drive seems to take forever. Despite himself he can’t help but feel nervous, almost jittery. He hides it well but even that act is more of a mask than anything he’s worn in a long time, and dropping back into the role Parker expects of him - the cold, steely Vagabond - makes him feel a little sick. He’s been away from it so long that it feels unfamiliar, uncomfortable, like a pair of shoes he’s grown out of that are tight and painful around the edges now.

Parker’s waiting in an office building in the city, one of the businesses she owns. Ryan’s a bit disconcerted to find her so close to where their main base is when most of the time she’s at her other offices right across the country. Out of reach, out of sight, out of mind.

She’s sitting at a desk, legs crossed tightly and brows furrowed when he steps in, the guards behind him.

“Haywood,” she says. “I’m very much looking forward to hearing your excuses." 

“There aren’t any,” Ryan replies, equally calmly. 

“Oh? No explanations for why you’ve been avoiding my calls and my men, for why you suddenly seem to be on the run from me - for why it’s been an entire year with no _fucking_ results to show for it?” She stands up from the desk. Even with heels she barely reaches past his shoulder but there is something in the hard set of her eyes and the presence of the men behind him that keeps Ryan wary. He remembers that this is the woman who tracked him down in the first place. That she takes after her uncle in ruthlessness and resourcefulness.

He opens his mouth but Parker barrels on before he can get a word out.

“Don’t think I haven’t been watching you. Don’t think I haven’t _seen_. You haven’t been on task for months. It looks a hell of a lot like you’ve switched sides and joined Ramsey.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ryan cuts in. His heart is pounding. “I’ve been taking my time. But Ramsey’s no friend of mine. He’s my mark.” 

“It doesn’t damn well look that way.” She steps closer, glaring up at him. “Have you been enjoying it? Getting cosy with the Fake AH Crew on my time, my money? Taking advantage of my getting you a job with them to break into a gang you never otherwise would have been able to? You fit right in, don’t you.”

Ryan presses his lips together and stares back at her defiantly. He can’t think of a lie.

Parker laughs, harshly, and jabs one sharp long fingernail at his chest.

“Well it doesn’t work that way, Haywood. I paid for you to get in there for a reason. You’re in there by my efforts. You _owe_ me. No more fucking around. I want my pound of flesh and if it doesn’t come from Gavin Free, it’s going to come from you.”

“Understood,” Ryan replies flatly.

Parker stares at him for another long moment and he glares back, straightening up, face shuttering down into that terrifying blankness that is both too familiar and too uncomfortable at the same time. He needs her to believe that even if he got distracted, he is still willing to complete this job. That even if he was enjoying being undercover too much, the time has come to end it.

That is a lie, and Parker is sharp, but Ryan has been the Vagabond for a long, long time, and if even Gavin can’t read him there is no way this woman can. After a moment she gives a curt nod and steps back.

“Good,” she says quietly, and Ryan gives her a tight smile before turning and shouldering past the people at the door, heading out.

— 

As he drives back down to the town his hands are shaking and he can’t quite stop them. He feels unsettled and out of sorts. _Scared_.

She won’t drop this, he knows. There are two dangers here. That she will send someone else, not just after him but after Geoff and Gavin too-

_Gavin-_

And the other. That if this gets out of hand Geoff will find out about it, and Gavin, and all the rest, and they will realise that he is a liar, liar, liar.

He can ignore this no longer. There is only one thing to be done, he realises vaguely, as he speeds along the dark empty roads in the rural stretches around this area of the coastline. He needs to kill Parker. That is the only way this can end.

He needs to kill her, and he must do it alone. Geoff can’t find out about this, or he is done for. They will never trust him again.

He is no stranger to assassinations. He knows he can get it done.

_But afterwards,_ he thinks. The heist is close and he cannot leave so abruptly now without explaining to the others why. _Focus on the heist for now._

_Then do it._

_Then you can finally leave all this behind you_.

—

— 

The bonfire is huge, a mass of crackling orange flames that spear up towards the night sky. Out here by the coast, away from the big city, there are more stars, but even their dim light is drowned out by the bright light of the fire, the smell of woodsmoke mingling with the salt of the ocean only metres out from where they sit.

The whole crew is here, everyone who helped on the heist and even those who didn’t. It’s a roaring great celebration, with bevs all around, and seated on the sand with a beer in hand and Gavin close by his side, Ryan feels a pleasant, tired buzz of satisfaction.

Here, in a secluded little cove away from town, they are safe. It’s near an old beach cabin they use as a safehouse, known only to the crew. The police are back in the city. The money is safely stashed away. His first heist was a rousing success and with people coming up and clapping him on the shoulder constantly - himself offering them up pleased smiles and nods of acknowledgement in turn - he’s never felt so much a part of something.

Beside him Gavin stretches out on the sand and groans. Ryan glances over at him and gives a small, fond smile. Gavin’s glasses are shoved up on top of his tousled hair and the light of the fire seems to nearly make him glow. Ryan can’t help but stare at him for a moment, taking in the way the flickering mix of shadows and light dance over his skin, before he snaps himself out of it.

“Sore?” he asks, and Gavin glances over at him and gives a small grin.

“Not too bad,” he replies. “You?”

“I’m good. Things went off without a hitch for once.”

“Courtesy of your careful planning,” Gavin points out, and Ryan laughs and gives a small shrug. Gavin grins wider, bringing his own bottle of beer up to his lips. He doesn’t sip, though, just toys at the bottle’s rim with his teeth, biting idly at the glass before he finally tips his head back and takes a long swig. Ryan’s eyes trail to the line of his throat as he swallows and he turns away quickly, repositioning himself on the sand.

“It’s cold,” Gavin says then, drawing Ryan’s attention again. He turns back in time to see the other man shifting closer to the fire, and snags the back of his shirt, tugging him back.

“I think that’s close enough. There are sparks. You don’t want to set your hair alight, especially with the amount of shit you put in it.” He reaches out and ruffles Gavin’s hair, drawing a squawk. 

“But it’s _warm_ , Rye-bread. Besides, I get near fires all the time.” 

“I know,” Ryan replies, patiently. “In fact, all of you like fire entirely too much. Gotta keep it safe.”

Gavin lets out a huff and draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. Ryan watches him silently. 

“That’s what you get for wearing a t-shirt out this time of year,” he points out finally. “It’s nearly winter.”

Gavin sticks his tongue out at him and Ryan sighs.

“If you’re cold,” he continues, “You can have my jacket.”

Gavin perks up immediately and Ryan rolls his eyes as he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over Gavin’s narrow shoulders. The cold night air hits his bare skin with a little chill, but the fire in front of them is pulsing off warmth and he quite likes the refreshing little hit the low temperature gives him. He glances over at Gavin, who’s pulling the jacket tighter around his shoulders, and doesn’t fight the fondness that swells up in his chest, warmer even than the heat of the fire against his skin.

“You’re being lovely tonight,” Gavin comments, pushing the sleeves of the jacket up a bit.

“I’m always lovely to you,” Ryan protests.

Gavin snorts. “You tipped garbage all over me that one time-”

“That was a _joke_ , I thought it was a recycling bin. Didn’t realise there’d be food in there. Besides, I bought you lunch to apologise.”

“Fair play. Are you possibly feeling lovely enough to get me another beer?” He tips his empty bottle towards Ryan with an innocent grin and Ryan rolls his eyes before heaving himself to his feet and heading off.

There’s a fridge near the barbecue pits a little way away from the bonfire. Here the sound of the celebrations are dimmed down a little; the faint roar of the ocean and the gentle electric humming of the fridge taking over in its place. Ryan hums softly under his breath as he ducks down to grab a beer, kicking the fridge shut behind him, only to freeze as something catches his eye.

There’s a light out on the road leading in towards the cabins and campsite. He pauses, squinting, the glass of the beer bottle very cold in his other hand. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust and focus on what he realises is a car, some distance away from the site.

His stomach drops.

It’s not one of the crew’s. He knows this suddenly, terribly; it’s Parker’s men, sitting and watching them. Biding their time. He doesn’t know if they’ve seen him or not, and stands frozen until, after what feels like forever, the car backs away and drives off.

He stares at the empty road long after it’s vanished, stomach churning.

The heist is over. He doesn’t have long so he has to go and deal with this - right now. No more excuses.

No more waiting around.

—

He slips away from the fire shortly after that and heads back to the beach house cabin to pack. He doesn’t want to go back to his apartment, worried they might be waiting for him there, but he keeps clothes and supplies here anyway. His hands are shaking a little but he pulls together a duffle quickly, methodically, the way he has a hundred times before a job. 

_Just a job_.

He’s halfway done when he hears the cabin door open in the other room. Warily he stands up and kicks the bag back under the bed before moving to the bedroom door and peering out.

It’s Gavin. Of course it’s Gavin. Ryan’s jacket is hanging from one hand and he’s looking around, a little uncertainly. When he catches sight of Ryan he relaxes, but only marginally, a nervous sort of smile lighting up on his face.

“You snuck off,” he says, and Ryan forces a smile back.

“Yeah,” he replies, and grins. “Came back here to get a jacket.”

It comes almost too easily to lie, but he doesn’t have time to feel bad about it before Gavin snorts and tosses his own jacket back at him. 

“There you go then,” he says, but sounds hesitant and uncertain, like he’s only trying to put off whatever it is he really wants to say. Ryan catches the jacket and tosses it onto the couch in the bedroom behind him, and when he turns back Gavin is approaching, slowly.

Ryan stiffens, too-aware of the open drawers and clothes on the bed behind him. The signs that he was planning to leave. But Gavin’s stepping closer now and no matter how much his secrets matter to him, Ryan can’t bring himself to push him away. Even now there’s some tension building up electric in the air around them, in the quiet of the cabin compared to the noise outside and the soft shuffle of Gavin’s feet on the hardwood floor. 

Something wells up in his chest, a yearning so strong it nearly aches. There are things he needs to do. Deal with Parker. Keep his secrets, for the sake of the crew. Burn his past behind him. But what he wants - what he _wants_ \- what he wants is Gavin, and he realises, suddenly, that for all he has tried to be careful, the way he feels about the other man has wormed its way under his armour and compromised him for a long time now. 

He swallows and backs into the room, letting Gavin enter as well. He’s careful at first to stand in front of the bed so Gavin can’t see the bag or the scattered belongings, but he’s quickly distracted anyway by how Gavin’s fidgeting, shifting on his heels and folding his hands together nervously. The other man is so worked up that he doesn’t even look around the room, his gaze instead flicking to Ryan’s and then away at the floor and back again, over and over.

“The heist went really well today,” Gavin says finally. “Better than they usually do. It was fun. Doing something you planned.”

“I had fun too,” Ryan replies, the words coming out almost automatically. He doesn’t know where this is going - doesn't quite know where he _hopes_ it’s going. Gavin gives a quick smile before he continues.

“I’m glad you joined the crew,” he says. “It’s only been a year but after this you… you sort of properly became one of us and, I don’t know, I’m really glad you stuck with it. I know I’ve said it before but I-”

“Are you drunk?” Ryan cuts in. Gavin’s not one to easily or openly admit his feelings, and he’s certainly never one to get _sappy_. The only time Ryan’s seen him let his guard down enough to start gushing love at people is when he’s bevved up. Otherwise he tends to be too cautious to open up that much.

But Gavin shakes his head now.

“No,” he replies, and gives a nearly hysterical laugh. “Sorry, this is probably well out of the blue.”

“Not really,” Ryan says quietly, and Gavin’s smile falters a little. 

“It takes me a while to say stuff like this,” he says, taking another step towards Ryan. “To trust people. You know that, I… things have happened before. I made mistakes and it’s made me careful.” His hand goes to his side and the scar Ryan knows is under his shirt. “But I trust you,” he adds quietly, and looks up at Ryan again, repeats it, more earnestly, “I _trust_ you.”

 “Gavin…”

Ryan knows what he’s admitting. How much that means. And for all that this has been coming a while now, he still can’t quite believe it’s happening, here, tonight. He still feels nervous and jittery, caught off guard by Gavin walking in on him packing, and worried about him seeing something, he takes him by the arm and steers him to the couch. Sits him down. Gavin practically collapses onto the seat, grasping at Ryan’s arms before settling his hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in tight like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Ryan realises suddenly that the other man is so nervous he’s shaking and- 

And hell, he is too. It’s scary, _this_ is scary; his heart is pounding and Gavin’s fingers are trembling on his shoulders and he forgets about everything else that’s happened that night. This is happening _now_. Gavin’s taken the first step and now Ryan has to decide if he’s coming along with him. 

It’s not even a question, really. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gavin stammers then, and Ryan can’t help but scoff. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” he admits, and there’s a swell of warmth in his stomach when that makes Gavin laugh.

Thing is, though, Ryan knows exactly what they’re doing. They’re taking a chance here, and he reaches up and folds his hand over Gavin’s, rubbing gently. Feels him, after a moment, start to relax a little. Their eyes meet and Ryan gives a little smile and when Gavin smiles back it calms him somehow, calms them both.  

“You trust me, right?” he asks quietly, and Gavin nods. He licks his lips nervously and Ryan’s eyes dart down, tracking the motion, not even bothering to try and quash down the flicker of heat in his stomach. 

“I trust you,” Gavin replies, and that’s all that Ryan needs to hear before he gives in and leans in close and presses their lips together. Carefully at first, gently, but after Gavin’s initial stiffen - somehow surprised even if he must have seen it coming - he responds quickly, eagerly, and Ryan leans into him harder, reaching down to brace his hands against the seat either side of Gavin, the other’s hands still clutching at his shoulders, a grounding point of contact. Gavin tastes vaguely of whiskey and his lips are faintly salty from the seaspray that coats them all spending so much time near the water, and everything else fades clear from Ryan’s mind.

It can’t last forever, even if he wants it to.

When they pull apart they’re both panting and Gavin drops his head down to rest against Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan lets him, bringing his hand up to rub Gavin’s back, catching his own breath, head still spinning a little from how fast everything’s happened. The blood seeming to buzz humming through his veins.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, Gavin’s face buried against his neck, gathering themselves. When Gavin does speak it nearly makes Ryan jump.

“You’re leaving,” he says, and Ryan stiffens.

He saw, he realises, he must have seen as soon as he stepped into the room. Of course he did; Gavin’s sharp and smart and must have just ignored the clothes on the bed, stuck to what he’d wanted to say.

He pulls back, grasping Gavin’s face in his hands as he looks him in the eye.

“Personal business,” he says, and then adds, sincerely, “But I’ll deal with it." 

Gavin doesn’t ask what it is, or where he is going; he can be nosey a lot of the time but he knows when not to push and Ryan is suddenly, deeply grateful for it.

“You’ll come back though,” he says quietly. 

“Of course.” Ryan smiles and Gavin smiles back, shoulders relaxing. 

“Are we….?” he begins, before trailing off, unsure, and Ryan’s smile widens. 

“We’re something,” he says, and runs a hand down Gavin’s arm. “We’ll work it out, Gav, I promise. And I’m… I’m glad you came in here tonight. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. But I have to deal with this first. I won’t be long.” 

“Okay,” Gavin says simply, and Ryan sees it in his eyes - _I trust you_ \- he feels a vague twinge of guilt at all he’s keeping from him, but he’s _dealing_ with this, he’s cleaning up his own fucking mess so that Gavin won’t get dragged in. He’s _protecting_ him, so he smiles again and reaches out to pull Gavin into a tight hug.

_I’m coming back_ , he thinks - it’s silly but after seeing the men tonight he’d been filled with an odd dread that things would go wrong - but it doesn’t feel like that now, after all this. He’s coming back. He’ll deal with it. 

Everything will be fine. 

Everything will be _fine_. 

— 

Two days later he’s alone in another hotel room. 

Geoff was confused - and concerned - by Ryan’s abrupt leaving. But, like Gavin, he accepted the explanation of personal business and didn’t push. He has to know Ryan has a past - everyone does in their world - but God, he doesn’t know the half of it, and Ryan’s determined to keep it that way. 

He lays low as he makes his plans to kill Jessica Parker. She’s not an easy woman to get to, constantly on the move, but he falls back into the routine of it - working out her security, her home, when he can get her alone, when he can do it quietly…  

For the last year or so, even on solo jobs he’s had Geoff there to run his plans by, or Gavin to complain to when things don’t go his way, or any of the others just to see around him every day. But he has to be away from them now, for their own safety, and being back on his own feels unfamiliar, a return to the life of quiet motel rooms and shitty pot noodles and late nights up with nothing but the silence and his own thoughts. 

He doesn’t like it.

This isn’t what he wants, isn’t something he can ever go back to, and even if he burned his mask, he has found himself here again, sitting alone on the hard mattress of a cheap motor inn bed working away into the dark hours of the night, _alone_ \- this time he needs to give it up entirely. Make a proper end to it. 

— 

He’s going after Parker. 

But, it seems, she has lost patience. She is also coming after him. 

A man breaks into his motel room in the middle of the night and tries to kill him. He wakes when he hears them approach the bed where he’s sleeping, but he didn’t hear them enter and that’s what worries him. He lies still. Pretends to be asleep. Then rolls to avoid the knife that’s coming towards him and fires twice at his attacker, but they’re fast and are gone before he can even turn the lights on. 

Whoever they are, they’re good, and it has him worried. He packs up and drives all night, keeping on the move, and in the morning he buckles down and starts solidifying his plans to kill Parker. 

He’s sitting in his car out in one of the little coastal towns when he notices he’s being followed again by a man on a bike. It’s late afternoon falling to evening and he knows it’s the assassin she’s sent after him. 

He slips out of the car and the man vanishes away, but Ryan knows he’s out there, watching. He goes on the hunt, slipping through the streets of the little town, climbing buildings and moving roof to roof wherever he’s able, silent and agile as a cat. Catches glimpses of the other guy now and then in the alleys and on roofs in a nasty game of cat and mouse, both taking turns being the chased and the chaser.

They head out towards the rundown pier, to a series of abandoned and empty boat sheds and storage units. It’s secluded in this area and the assassin takes the chance to show himself, leaping out at Ryan the second he turns his back. He was standing on the roof of a boat shed and only just leaps back in time to dodge the attack, the flash of the other man’s knife glinting in the sinking sunlight. The man leaps towards him again, Ryan moving to pull his own gun, but as they back away from the edge of the roof to get more space between them Ryan steps on a patch of rotting wood and the roof collapses under him. 

“Shit!” he barely has time to yell as he falls into darkness. He hits the floor hard and pain spears through his shoulder as he lands on it. 

He’s inside the boat shed now, in musty darkness that smells of rot and dust, and moments later the man leaps down the hole in the roof after him. Ryan kicks his feet out from under him and scrambles upright. He dropped his knife in the attack and as he tries to grab for his gun his shoulder screams with pain. He can barely move his arm, it hurts so much, and in a panic he turns and kicks the shed door down, running out and sprinting into the maze of fences and fishing supply sheds nearby, hoping to buy himself a little time to sort himself out. 

He skids to a halt, panting, behind a bait shop and gingerly rotates his arm. It’s not dislocated but whatever the fuck he’s done to it it hurts like hell. Gritting his teeth, he powers through it, forcing himself to get his gun out and check the clip before peering about for the assassin.  

There’s no sign of him, and Ryan cautiously emerges, moving back towards the boat shed, only to whip around when there comes the flash of a shadow behind him. It’s the assassin, running towards him, and he raises his gun and fires several times only to miss entirely as the man - remarkably agile - runs up a stack of nearby barrels and crates and launches himself at Ryan, one foot out. With his shoulder injured as it is Ryan can’t lift his gun fast enough to shoot again and the man’s boot slams into his chest in a flying drop-kick that sends him back into the door of the bait shop with such force that it smashes behind him and he falls onto his back again, the wind knocked out of him. The man lands on top of him and reaches for a gun and Ryan - still gasping for breath - is barely able to reach up and grab his wrist, wrenching it away before he can get the weapon out. The assassin jerks out of his grasp and punches him twice in the face, hard, but Ryan brings a knee up and kicks him off, sending him flying sideways into a glass display case that smashes under his weight, glass shards shattering all over the floor of the dark abandoned shop. 

He drags himself to his feet. The assassin is getting up slowly too, winded, but is already moving to pull his gun and Ryan lunges to tackle him to the ground again. Three shots fire wildly off into the air before Ryan knocks the gun from his hand. He’s on top now, struggling to pin the man down as he punches him once, twice, three times in the jaw - blood blooming dark under the man’s cloth mask - the man’s hand comes up, tearing at Ryan’s own face. He’s wearing a different mask himself, a simple white one since he burned the skull - and he rears back as the man tries to dig at his eyes. 

They tussle for a moment, rolling back and forth struggling to get on top, punching and kicking wherever they can get a limb in. 

By the time Ryan finally gets the upper hand he’s exhausted and bleeding from a split lip, from a cut just above his eyelid, and he’s pinning the man down when he feels a hand come up and start to pull the mask off his face. 

He panics. The guy’s other hand has come up to his throat and is scrabbling for purchase, squeezing hard, and Ryan can’t breathe- 

And the mask is coming off- 

He grips the man’s face in both hands and smashes his head back against the edge of the broken display case table behind him. And again, and again, beating his skull in against the hard wood-

Footsteps at the door. He barely takes notice of them, at least until the man wrenches his mask off his face in one final jerk and he hears a gasp from the doorway- 

“Ryan?” 

The voice is too familiar and Ryan’s heart _drops_. He lets the man fall to the ground and checks to see that he is dead, his skull caved in and pouring blood, before he slowly, slowly, looks up. 

It’s Gavin. 

Oh God, it’s Gavin, and Ryan can’t move, stays kneeling where he is as he stares wide-eyed and horrified at the other man. He doesn’t know what to think except _what’s going on_ and _what are you doing here_ and _oh God, he’s seen, he’s seen, he’s seen_ - 

He has face paint on under his mask and he knows that that’s enough to identify him as the Vagabond. Stupidly, stupidly, he’d painted the same iconic pattern that he used to. Was too used to it and did it without thinking. But Gavin’s staring at him now in disbelief and horrified, horrified recognition, and all Ryan can do is gape back at him- 

Only for another man to shoulder his way past Gavin, already pulling a gun out.

“It’s the fucking Vagabond!” the man explains - he’s a tanned, portly middle-aged fellow who Ryan’s never seen before in his life - “Oh my God, he’s not dead after all - it’s the _Vagabond_!”

“No,” Gavin begins quietly, still staring at Ryan in horror, but the man’s already lifting his gun. 

“He’s here to kill you, Free,” he says, almost hysterically - Ryan had half forgotten, in the last year, just how terrifying his old reputation was to people. The man looks scared, almost panicked, and is already raising his gun to point at Ryan - “Jessica Parker’s put a price on your head lately, didn’t you hear? Sending everyone she’s got after you, he must be-”

The gun wavers towards Ryan and he forces himself into action, lunging for the assassin’s weapon on the floor a little way away. The sudden movement makes the man panic and start firing, and the only reason he misses is because Gavin, alarmed, lunges forward and tackles him, knocking him to the ground. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing,” the man cries as he hits the floor, Gavin on top of him- 

“Stop _shooting_ ,” Gavin snaps - he sounds confused but he keeps glancing at Ryan - “Don’t shoot him-“ 

“It’s the _Vagabond_ -“ 

“It’s not! It’s King, from our crew-“ 

Gavin breaks off with a grunt as the man brings an elbow around to smash into his face. He falls sideways and catches himself on the floor only to cry out in pain as the broken glass cuts into his hands.  

Ryan’s near the gun now. He reaches for it only to rear back as the man shoots wildly at the floor near where his hand was. 

“Stop,” Gavin begs again, and Ryan sees him move forward and try to haul the guy back, only to be shaken off again, “You need to stop-“

The man is too far gone. The terror of seeing what Ryan knows he thinks is a ceaseless killer, an assassin who he likely thinks will attack them at any moment, seems to be too much; he lifts the gun again and Ryan flinches back, thinking him about to shoot, when a different gunshot rings out and he watches the man crumples to the floor, dead- 

And Gavin behind him, on his knees, hands shaking around the gun he’s holding, his face splattered with the man’s blood.

A tense silence falls between them in the wake of the gunshot. Ryan can only hear his own ragged breathing and Gavin’s gasps before the two of them finally look up and their eyes meet. 

“He - he was going to kill you,” Gavin stammers. “I didn’t want to - he was going to _kill_ you - oh God, I shouldn’t have killed him, Geoff’s going to…” He shakes himself and then seems to register, again, what’s going on. 

“What the hell is going on, Ryan, what is this?” he demands, only to break off as Ryan stumbles over to him and seizes him by the shoulders, shaking him hard. 

“What the hell are you doing here,” he demands, “Were you _following_ me?” 

He doesn’t mean to yell, but he’s so shaken up by nearly dying twice over just then, by the shock of the assassin coming after him and the horror of Gavin coming out and the terrible, terrible fear that if Gavin had come in sooner the assassin might have hurt him too. 

“What?” Gavin cries, startled, reaching up to grip at Ryan’s wrists. “No! I had a meet in the area and we heard the shots - what are _you_ doing here?” 

Ryan can only stare at him, his glare slowly fading, and after a moment Gavin’s face clouds over and he shoves Ryan away before scrambling back across the floor. What happened seems to hit him all of a sudden and his face drains of colour as his eyes scan over Ryan’s face, taking in the smeared paint and the blood - then his gaze darts over to the man with his skull caved in. 

“What - what’s going on?” he asks again. “Ryan, what is this, why is your face like that, you look like…” 

He trails off, waiting for some explanation, but Ryan - his anger draining away into something like fear now, can only stare at him helplessly, and after a moment it seems to properly hit Gavin, and his eyes widen.

“Oh my God,” he chokes out. “You’re… you’re the Vagabond, you… This is what you meant by personal business. He said Parker put a hit out on me, you-” 

“That’s not what’s going on,” Ryan snaps, “I’m not after _you-_ ”

“But you’re the Vagabond,” Gavin replies, and stares at Ryan again as if willing him to deny it. 

He can’t. He can’t lie to Gavin’s face, not now, and all he can do is stare helplessly back and feel like he’s being stabbed in the gut as Gavin reaches a shaking hand up to cover his mouth before turning away, obviously struggling to process it, looking like he’s about to throw up. 

Ryan gets to his feet and sways a little as his shoulder aches again. Gavin flinches when he moves before scrambling to his feet as well, wary, glancing between Ryan and the door and looking like he thinks he’s going to be attacked any second now. 

“That man tried to kill me,” Ryan says, pointing to the assassin. “There’ll be more. We need to move. I’ll… I’ll explain everything later.” 

Gavin just stares at him, and when Ryan moves towards him he flinches again and quickly picks up his gun. Ryan stares at him, stricken. He feels oddly numb, like it hasn’t quite sunk in yet that Gavin _knows_ now - and Gavin seems to be struggling to take it in still as well. 

“Come _on_ ,” Ryan repeats, and Gavin looks down at the body of the man he killed. 

“Oh God,” he says again. “I shot him.” 

“Who is that?” 

“It’s a bloody _client_ , and a rich one too; he was gonna invest in us, join forces for a cut - shit, shit, Geoff’s gonna kill me, we were meant to be working with him but he… He was gonna kill you, I had to do it-” 

“Just leave it, we need to get out of here,” Ryan says, trying not to think of Geoff and how the fuck this is going to play out now, but Gavin shakes his head.

“I can’t… we can’t just leave him here. It can’t look like the Fake AH Crew did it or there’ll be trouble.”

“We’ll get rid of the body then, come _on_.” 

Ryan reaches down and grabs the man’s body under the arms, slinging him up over his shoulder and trying to ignore the rush of blood that leaks down over his shoulder and back, sticky and horrible. 

Gavin’s still standing frozen, staring at him. It seems to be sinking in now and Ryan can see him closing off, can see him starting to work out and realise all the fucking lies Ryan must have told him - but they don’t have time for this, and he jerks his head towards the door angrily. 

“We need to leave right now. Do you have a car?” he asks, and Gavin nods mutely. 

“Then let’s get out of here,” Ryan says, and steps out of the doorway, waiting for Gavin to head out first. Gavin stares at him for a long moment before slowly, slowly walking out. His shoulders are very stiff and Ryan’s heart sinks as he follows after him. 

Outside the sun is already beginning to set and the temperature is dropping with it. Gavin falters a moment, glancing at Ryan again before turning and heading off. Ryan wants to say something, anything, to reassure him, but he can’t find the words. All he can do is follow him, aching, the weight of the dead man heavy over his shoulder. 

— 

— 

— 

Now. The roaring wind and the thunder of the waves down below are making Ryan feel dizzy. It’s all he can do to stay focused on the path ahead of him, on not slipping on the steep, rocky trail. He can hear Gavin shuffling along behind him but doesn’t dare turn to look at him, turning all his attention to the torch and the sandy path sloping steadily down around the cliff face under the dim beam of light. 

Now and then they pause, listening, but there is no sound from up on the cliff. Ryan doesn’t think they’re being followed but there’s still the constant tension of possible danger.

As they get farther down the road gets steeper, perilous with little patches of slippery wet rock. It’s easy to slip - and Ryan does, after a moment, despite all his concentration. His boot slides out from under him as he misses a step on a particularly bad patch of road and for a moment his stomach drops as he stumbles, suddenly aware of the awful drop just inches to his right- 

Only for Gavin to grab the back of his shirt and yank him back. He catches himself against the rock wall to his left, gasping, heart thundering at the close call. 

“Be careful,” Gavin snaps, but his voice is shaking and it’s all Ryan can do to nod, trembling. He takes a moment to gather himself before moving on and Gavin doesn’t say a word. 

Close to the bottom of the cliff the path disappears away and the only way down is a series of jagged slabs of rock. Ryan hesitates, considering the path he wants to take, before picking one out and, carefully, stepping down onto it. It’s slippery and there isn’t much room to balance himself; he barely makes it down and has to catch himself afterwards. 

“Careful, Gav,” he calls up, and shines the torch up towards the other man before holding out a hand.

Gavin pauses before shaking his head. 

“I’ll be fine,” he says, sizing up the gap, but Ryan frowns at him.

“Just fucking take my hand, you are going to _fall_ and _die_.”

Gavin blinks at him. For a moment he lifts his chin defiantly, but then he takes a look down at the black churning water below and swallows before sighing and reaching out. Ryan grips his hand tightly and pulls him over, catching him the second he’s down and holding him steady as they wobble for a moment on the precarious ledge. For a second, instinct kicks in and Gavin clings to him so as not to fall - but the second they’ve got their balance back he seems to remember exactly why they’re in this situation, and lets go of Ryan abruptly, the gun rising in his hand again. 

“Keep moving,” he says flatly, and Ryan can’t help the pang of hurt he feels before nodding and turning to move on.

Finally they reach the bottom of the trail. There’s an area of slippery rock between the sharp jagged peaks and the ocean beyond, though even this place is covered by a shallow lot of water, enough to soak Ryan’s jeans around his ankles and make him worried about slipping. It’s enough to drown in, if you fell and hit your head. 

Behind him Gavin’s faltering, sizing up the jump from the lowest ledge down to where Ryan is. Ryan holds out his hand again and Gavin only hesitates briefly this time before accepting it, hopping down. He immediately almost slips and Ryan catches him, steadying him. For a moment they both nearly lose balance and have to brace themselves against each other to keep upright. The water is sloshing around Ryan’s ankles and he steers Gavin back towards the cliff wall so they can at least hold onto that instead.

For a moment they catch their breath, panting heavily. Gavin’s distracted now, not bothering to point the gun at Ryan any longer. Ryan’s just glad to be off that stupid trail. The ocean is so loud down here that he can barely hear anything else, but he pauses, straining, and after a moment he catches the sound of shouting from faintly higher up. 

Gavin hears it too. He pauses, looking up, and they both stiffen as they catch sight of lights up above and along the top of the trail. Too far away for them to be in immediate danger, but enough to let them know that they’re definitely being hunted. 

Gavin draws in a shaking breath and Ryan turns back to him. 

“So who exactly are these people after us?” he asks, raising his voice to be heard above the waves.  

Ryan bites his lip. At least Gavin’s giving him the chance to explain now. 

“They’re Jessica Parker’s hired guns,” he replies, and Gavin’s brow furrows. Ryan continues, “She hired me a while ago to do a job. I bailed on it. Now she says I owe her.” 

Gavin’s brows furrow as he takes this in. But before he can say anything loud music suddenly blares out and they both jump. 

“What the fuck,” Ryan begins, but Gavin’s already fumbling to pull out his phone, the source of the noise. 

“It’s Geoff,” he says, and glances at Ryan very awkwardly. Ryan stiffens in alarm, unsure what Gavin’s going to tell the man, but before anything can happen they both leap nearly out of their skin as a massive explosion rings out from the top of the cliff. The rock shudders behind them and Ryan stumbles, off-balance. Gavin drops his phone in shock and it falls into the water.

“What the _hell_ was that,” Ryan snaps. His ears are ringing even as the rumblings of the explosion die down.

“I don’t know,” Gavin replies shakily. He’s crouching now, digging around in the water for his phone to no avail. “Damn it, I dropped the bloody thing-“

“No time to look for it now,” Ryan says. He grabs his arm and hauls him upright again. “We need to get out of here.”

Gavin tugs his arm away but nods, seeing the sense of it. 

“Where now?” Ryan asks, and Gavin looks around. 

“We have to get to the shore. It’s around there but the water gets deep. We might have to swim a bit.” 

“That’s fine,” Ryan replies, and passes him the torch so he can lead the way. In order to hold onto it properly Gavin has to put the gun away, and he hesitates briefly before doing so. 

Ryan follows after him as they wade their way out from the rocky ledge. The water gets deeper and deeper until it’s past their waists and they’re half-swimming, floundering along. It’s hard with the waves and the current and Ryan keeps a close eye on Gavin, worried he’ll be swept away. It’s stupid, because the younger man is probably a stronger swimmer than he is, but he doesn’t think he could stand to lose anything else tonight. 

Finally they reach the shore on the other side of the cliffs and clamber out of the water to sink down in a little cave - barely more than an indent against the cliffs. They’re both soaked now, and Ryan’s so cold he can barely even feel it any more. His teeth are chattering hard as he catches his breath. He casts a glance back up to the top of the cliff and startles when he notices the familiar glow of fire.

“The car’s burning,” he says. “They must’ve blown it up. That was the explosion.”

Gavin follows his gaze and nods. He’s sitting down, arms wrapped around his knees in a futile effort to preserve warmth, and after a moment Ryan crouches next to him. He’s so cold and aching he can barely walk and given that they don’t know what else might be out there, it’s probably worth taking a couple of moments to rest. 

It hurts to breathe; he’s so cold and tense. He reaches up with his opposite arm and massages his shoulder, which still hurts terribly.

Gavin’s doing something with his hands next to him and Ryan looks over to see him trying to pick the glass out of his palms. 

“Let me help,” he says. 

“I can do it on my own,” Gavin begins, but Ryan shakes his head.

“Maybe you can, but it’ll be faster if I help.” He offers Gavin the torch and after a long moment the other man takes it, shining the light on his opposite palm. Ryan takes his hand, holding it still while he uses the other to start digging for glass. It must hurt like a bitch, especially after getting saltwater in it, but Gavin only makes the occasional grunt as Ryan pinches at a shard close to the surface and starts pulling. They really need tweezers to do this properly but it’s better than nothing right now. 

They work in a tense silence for a little while, broken only by Ryan’s hums of concentration and Gavin’s little pained sounds. 

He’s aching to say something, though. To explain. But half scared of what Gavin might say or do when he finally hears the whole truth. But it’s killing him not to let it out, and after a moment - and after glancing at Gavin again to find him looking down at his bleeding hands, silently - he can’t keep it in any longer. 

“She hired me to infiltrate your crew,” he blurts out. “Just over a year ago now.” 

Gavin doesn’t look up at him but Ryan knows he’s listening. He hesitates, but now that the words have started coming they can’t stop. 

“She wants to kill Geoff,” he said. “But you were in the way.”

“She hired you to kill me,” Gavin murmurs, and Ryan nods, desperately. 

“But I couldn’t - things changed. I… I liked it there. I liked the others too much.   And you. I didn’t want to do it. So I ditched the job. I’m not the Vagabond anymore, Gavin, I gave all that up. I couldn’t do it. And everything that happened tonight, that wasn’t about you. I’m not gonna hurt you - I’d never hurt you - I _couldn’t_.” 

Gavin stays silent and Ryan pulls out the last piece of glass, letting it drop to the sand near them. Gavin’s hands are bleeding and slowly he clenches his fists around the wounds, blood slowly squeezing its way through the cracks between his fingers. 

Ryan opens his mouth but his words are all used up. There is nothing to do but wait for Gavin’s response now. 

He doesn’t give much of one. Isn’t even looking much at Ryan, just staring down at his hands and the blood and the mist streaming from his mouth with every breath. Finally, after a moment, he shivers. 

“It’s cold,” is all he says, sounding very tired. 

Ryan can only nod. He straightens up, peering out along the beach. It seems empty, but they can’t wait here much longer.

“We need another vehicle,” he says. “We’ll need to make a run for it up towards the pier.” 

Gavin nods and Ryan pauses.

“I need my gun,” he says, and Gavin stares at him before wordlessly handing it over. He seems to have come to the conclusion that Ryan isn’t a threat to him, which he can only be grateful for as he takes his weapon back. It’s wet and he frowns, taking a moment to empty it out and put it back together properly before peering out again. 

“I think they’re still around,” he murmurs - it’s hard to tell when they can’t hear all that much - he heads cautiously out, taking point, and Gavin follows him in silence. 

They run quietly along the sand towards the road leading back towards the populated areas some distance up from the beach. But sure enough, it isn’t long before they hear guns and shouting behind them and Ryan turns to see the men, who had been searching farther up the waterline, running towards them. There’s quite a number of them and he curses, looking around for any sort of cover. All he can find is a low wall nearby separating the sand dunes from the plants further up. He nudges Gavin towards it. 

“Behind there, go now.” 

Gavin obeys, both of them scurrying over and ducking down behind the wall just as gunshots begin to ring out close to them. 

Ryan checks his clip and curses.

“I’ve only got five rounds left. How about you?” 

“Eight,” Gavin replies. His voice is tight but he sounds determined, falling back into the zone they get into in any sort of dangerous situation.

“Okay,” Ryan says, and lets out a long breath. “Okay. We need to work together here. Can’t waste ammo.”

Gavin looks at him for a moment and then nods.

“Okay,” he replies. 

“Shoot when I tell you to.” Ryan pops out from behind the wall, getting a look at where the men are before diving back down as a bullet hits the stone near his left ear. “You take left, there’s two at your eleven o’clock, I’ve got the right side.”

“You’ve got the right,” Gavin repeats, a bit uncertainly, and Ryan turns to him and reaches out, squeezing his arm. 

“ _Trust me_ ,” he urges, and after a moment Gavin nods. Ryan doesn’t have time to reassure him further; he counts to three and then as there’s a break in the men’s firing they pop up from behind the wall. Ryan focuses on his own two targets, taking them both down quickly before slumping back down again; Gavin takes a few more shots to get his before he ducks back down again too. They exchange a glance and a nod and Ryan relaxes a bit as he realises that Gavin seems more confident now, like he’s figure out this is like any other heist they’ve been on. 

Rinse and repeat. They take down three more men before the others back off, running off to their vehicles now that they no longer have force in numbers. Ryan leans back against the wall as they retreat, catching his breath. 

“Good job,” he says automatically, and Gavin glances at him. He doesn’t reply but he’s not frowning either and when Ryan clambers to his feet and holds out a hand he takes it, letting Ryan heave him up. 

“Let’s go then,” Ryan says, and they move on.

— 

When they step into the familiar warmth of Gavin’s apartment Ryan nearly collapses with relief. They’re safe. It’s over, or some of it at least. It took them a while to find a car and even longer to get back into town and make sure they weren’t followed. By now, now they’re finally here. His legs are shaking and he barely makes it to the couch before he collapses onto it. 

Gavin sighs as he enters the room as well from where he was locking the door.

“No damn phone,” is the first thing he says as he seems to remember he dropped it. And then, “Bandages,” and he disappears from the room again. Ryan heaves himself up as well and goes into the bathroom. He runs the faucet and then looks up at himself in the mirror. 

He looks awful. It’s been a long time since he put paint on his face and his reflection with it on is unfamiliar, especially since half of it has been washed off by the rain and the ocean and the rest is smudged to all hell. He looks a bit like a melting clown and it would be laughable if he didn’t know how much this all meant to Gavin. He runs the water warm and begins to wash the rest of the paint off before turning it off and struggling to remove his shirt.  

It’s hard with his injured arm but when it finally comes free he looks in the mirror again and winces. His shoulder is covered in horrible dark bruising, and when he reaches up and prods at it he lets out a hiss of pain. 

“Ryan?” 

He turns to see Gavin standing in the bathroom door. The other man looks briefly startled to see Ryan with his paint off - and shirt too, probably - but he beckons him out into the living room and Ryan sits on the couch again and lets Gavin stick bandaids over the cuts on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. Gavin still hasn’t said much to him, but he’s not shaking anymore and he doesn’t seem angry. But Ryan doesn’t want to hope yet. “I really am, Gavin, I’m so, so fucking sorry. For lying and - just everything. I fucked up. I’ve been so scared-” 

“You know,” Gavin cuts in, voice tight but not angry, “I… I can’t trust people. You know why hearing that you’ve been playing me this whole time is terrifying-” 

“I know,” Ryan replies, “And that’s why I kept putting off telling you. I knew how you’d react. But I was wrong. I’m sorry,” he says again, and Gavin sighs, pulling back. He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair and stares at Ryan for a long, long time. 

Ryan looks down at his hands, quietly, but when he glances up at Gavin and looks properly he can see him struggling and knows, knows with a sudden relief that Gavin _wants_ to trust him. Wants to believe that now, at least, he means what he says. 

“I went to kill Parker,” he continues. “That’s the personal business I was on. I realised they were coming and I needed to protect you. That was going to be the end of it all.” 

Gavin nods, slowly. He’s still hard to read but his hand goes to his side, rubbing gently, and Ryan looks at it and bites his lip.

“Whatever happened last time,” he says softly, “This isn’t that. I’ve changed now. I changed my mind long ago.” 

Gavin nods again and busies himself packing away the first aid kit. Ryan can tell he’s thinking hard and not wanting to interrupt him, he leans back against the couch and closes his eyes for a moment, letting him have his space.

Finally, Gavin speaks again. 

“Out of curiosity,” he says, “How were you planning on killing me?” 

Ryan’s eyes fly open. 

“What?” he asks. Out of every question Gavin could have asked, that is not one he was expecting, and he flounders for a moment before settling on a helpless shrug. “I… I mean, there were a bunch of ways.” 

“Example?” 

“Well… I figured you’re so tired all the time that I could have thrown you down the lighthouse stairs and the others would probably believe you’d just fallen while walking around half-asleep.” 

Gavin snorts loudly.  

“Oh my God. That’s… okay. But you didn’t throw me down the stairs,” he says, seemingly thinking back to all the late nights they spent together when he was more vulnerable than he ever realised. “You brought me tea.” 

“I got too close,” Ryan says, pitifully, and Gavin stares at him for a moment before, to Ryan’s shock, beginning to laugh. Not hysterically, either, but his genuine squeaky giggles. Ryan can only stare at him, confused. 

“What?” he demands, and Gavin shakes his head. 

“The fucking Vagabond fell for me,” he says incredulously. “For _me_. That’s so _stupid_.” 

“It’s not,” Ryan protests, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

“It is,” Gavin says, and Ryan scowls, though there’s no real anger in it. 

“ _You’re_ stupid,” he shoots back, and Gavin stops laughing and gives a tired sort of smile instead.

“I am,” he agrees quietly, and sighs. “I’m really damn stupid. Letting you into the crew like I did. Shouldn’t’ve trusted you.” 

“Gavin…” Ryan trails off, but when Gavin looks at him now there isn’t much, if any, genuine anger in it. 

“You could have thrown me down that cliff when we were on it,” he points out, and Ryan raises his eyebrows. 

“ _You_ could have thrown _me_ down,” he says, and Gavin nods thoughtfully. 

“I guess I could’ve,” he replies, “Couldn’t I?” 

They sit in silence for a long moment. As the stress of this awful day fades away leaving them nothing but tired Ryan can see how worn down Gavin is. How, much as he’s struggling with all these revelations, part of him knows that it would be so much easier just to trust Ryan. And that above all he _wants_ to, to trust that this is all fine, that things can go back to how they were. 

It’s on him, now, and Ryan waits patiently until, after a moment, Gavin tentatively reaches out and puts a hand on his arm, touching gingerly at first until Ryan leans into his hand. He seems to gain confidence and shifts towards him on the couch until he’s leaning in against his side, drinking in the comfort he wanted but was afraid to let himself have. Ryan drops an arm down around him and lets him curl in next to him, head resting on his shoulder. Knows, then, that despite everything Gavin believes what he said. That he’s changed now. That he’s not out to hurt him. 

All the tension he’s been carrying around leaves him in a rush of breath and he sags back against Gavin, letting his eyes slip shut. The secret’s out. He knows. And maybe, now, it’ll all be fine. 

—

“You’re _what_ ,” Geoff demands angrily. 

Ryan stares back at him, not faltering.  

Of course Gavin wouldn’t keep the secret to himself, and much as Ryan had half-wished they could just leave it between them for a while, he’d wanted to tell Geoff as soon as possible and Ryan had agreed if only to make sure Gavin properly trusted him again. 

He’d been dreading it, but it felt a lot better to have it come from his mouth rather than being rudely found out in the worst way possible. And even if Geoff is glaring at him now, Gavin is right there by his side. 

“Geoff,” Gavin says softly. “He changed now.” 

“He was here to fucking _kill you_ , Gavin-“ 

“Yeah, Geoff, but now he’s in love with me an’ all.” Gavin says it so casually that Ryan nearly chokes on his own spit, not having expected the other man to admit that so soon. It shocks Geoff too; he gapes between them for a moment before turning to Ryan and tilting his head, sizing him up. 

“So you’re the Vagabond,” he says, and Ryan pauses. 

“Not any more,” he replies, but Geoff flaps a hand. 

“Shit. No wonder you’re so fucking good at, well. Killing people and all that.” He pauses, thinking, then says, “So where’s the mask?”

“I, ah, burned it.”

“That’s very dramatic,” Geoff mutters, and Ryan gives a wry smile.

“I used to do theatre.” 

“No wonder you’re such a damn good liar then. It takes a lot to fool Gav.” He glances at the other man again, lips pressed together tightly for a moment. “He got past you. No one’s done that in years.” 

“Don’t be mad at him,” Ryan says immediately, and Geoff turns to him and raises his eyebrows.

“I’m not,” he says calmly.

Gavin reaches out and presses Geoff’s arm.

“I _trust_ him,” he says, and Geoff’s face softens a little. He turns to Ryan then and tilts his head.

“The Vagabond part of our crew. That’s gonna give us some fucking sweet street cred if word gets out.”

Ryan’s shoulders slump in relief, and Geoff grins then, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not annoyed you lied to us all for a year. But if Gav says he trusts you now, well, I trust him. And it wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

“I still need to kill Parker,” Ryan begins, and Geoff nods.

“But you don’t hafta do it on your own,” he replies. “Enough secrets now. Okay?”

Ryan can only nod, suddenly absurdly grateful to Geoff for taking this in stride so well. Even if Geoff is grinning at him he knows the other man must still be thinking hard about all this. That at some point when Gavin isn’t around he’ll probably pull him aside for a private chat. But for now, at least, he can tell that Geoff’s gonna make an effort to keep things fine. He’d been so worried the truth would damage everything irreparably, would ruin everything. But, it seems, he’d underestimated the strength of the friendship he’d built up with Geoff as well as Gavin over the last few months. 

Geoff claps him on the back again before heading out of the room leaving Gavin and Ryan to glance at each other.

“See?” Gavin says. “I told you it’d be fine.”

Ryan can only nod; he’s told Gavin the whole story by now. No more lies, even by omission, and despite Gavin’s initial wariness, despite his issues-

They’re close. Close enough now that he believes Ryan. And having him know everything now is a weight off Ryan’s shoulders that he didn’t even realise was there until it’s gone. And when Gavin reaches out to press his arm and smile at him, he smiles back, relieved not to have to hide anymore.

— 

The others take it just as well. Michael is concerned at first, more about the killing-Gavin part than the fact that Ryan’s the Vagabond, but he’s perceptive and is quickly able to tell that whatever he joined the crew for, Ryan’s in it with the rest of them now. Jack, too, is easily accepting, and Ryan couldn’t be more relieved.

“Can I have your autograph?” is all Ray says when Ryan tells him.

Ryan can only laugh at that.

“No seriously,” Ray continues. “I’m a big fan.”

“Shut up.” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this sooner. Dude put the paint back on, I want to take a selfie with you.”

“You’re the _worst_.”

“Sign my rocket launcher!”

—

Life goes on. They make plans to take out Parker but there’s less of a rush, now that Ryan doesn’t have to keep everything secret, now that Geoff and Gavin are in the know and on their guard. Ryan’s secrets change nothing, and except for the occasional teasing he, for the most part, has nothing to worry about anymore. It’s more freeing than he could ever have imagined.

Some days he can’t quite believe things worked out so smoothly. He supposes that’s what happens in crews like this, where everyone genuinely cares about each other. You make things work.

Geoff calls him into his office one day and doesn’t say anything, just stands for a long time staring down the staircase at Gavin, working on the floor below them, until Ryan works out what he’s getting at.

“Um,” is all he can say, unsure how much Gavin’s told Geoff or how much Geoff’s seen.

“Do not fucking hurt that kid,” Geoff orders, even as he himself is lining up a wad of paper to throw from here and hit Gavin with.

“Couldn’t if you paid me to,” Ryan mutters, and Geoff snorts loudly before turning to him with a grin and tossing the paper ball at Gavin’s head.

—

It moves into autumn and days that are grey but not rainy. The crew is busy, both dealing with Parker and taking on a slew of new jobs, and they don’t have much time to themselves. The first time in weeks they properly get a day off at the same time, Ryan and Gavin go for a walk up around the cliffs near the lighthouse, Ryan trying to learn more of the trails and paths. 

For a while they stroll in silence, enjoying the brisk exercise and the fresh air as they head up along a winding path. Ryan glances down towards the ocean - the waves are rough and turbulent in the wind, but it’s not storming, not like it did most of winter. 

He dreams sometimes of that night up on the cliff. Of picking his way down the path with Gavin pointing a gun at him. Sometimes of slipping, and falling, and the dead man’s corpse sinking through the black water below. Bad dreams - not like he doesn’t have enough of those already - he wonders sometimes if Gavin dreams of it too, but never quite dares to ask.

It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Here in the daylight it is fine, with the water grey-blue instead of black and Gavin next to him laughing at some inane snapchat Michael has sent to him instead of paying attention to his feet on the path.

The incline steepens and Ryan’s shoes slip a little. Without even looking up from his phone Gavin holds out a hand and Ryan blinks a few times before taking it with a small smile. Even when the trail evens out Gavin doesn’t let go.

They get up to the top and stop for a water break. It’s terribly windy up here and Gavin takes his sunglasses off and jams them in his pocket. He looks over at Ryan and grins.

“I reckon people look good in the wind,” he says, and Ryan raises his eyebrows.

“What, all messy?”

“Not _after_ the wind. Just during. Once it stops they look messy.” He puts the cap back on his water bottle and stares out at the view. Almost absently he holds his hand out to Ryan again and the other man takes it, but pauses, fingers running over the still-healing scars on Gavin’s palm where the glass cut him.

Gavin looks down, shivering a bit when Ryan’s fingers trail lightly over his skin. After a moment Ryan slots their fingers together and squeezes, gently. Gavin looks up and meets his eyes, teeth tugging nervously at his bottom lip.

They might be very close now, but they haven’t really progressed anything since Ryan’s secret came out. He’s been giving Gavin space, waiting for him to make the first move, and it hasn’t helped that they’ve been so busy the last few weeks that this is one of the first quiet moments they’ve really had alone.

In any case, Gavin is the one who leans in now - pauses, waiting for Ryan to smile and move to meet him half way - before reaching up to grip at the front of Ryan’s shirt and tug him in closer until they’re pressed up against each other.

Here they are now. Ryan can feel the wind in his hair and biting at the back of his neck. But Gavin is warm against him, and Ryan leans down and settles his hands on the other man’s waist, holding him steady. Familiar now with how his smaller body fits under Ryan’s hands and the way his chapped lips work against his. And this time, when they pull apart breathless and flushed and grinning, Ryan knows that neither of them are going anywhere.


End file.
